


I Walk This Lonely Road

by Winchesteralism



Series: The Mute Cas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x03, Angst, Coda, Despair, Dream Sex, Emotions, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesteralism/pseuds/Winchesteralism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda fic for 9x03. When Cas gets kicked out of the bunker, he has to make a lot of life decisions really fast. Knowing that the smallest one could change everything about him or even kill him- Castiel must decide who he is, and who he wants to be. Destiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Verdict

**Author's Note:**

> The last episode hit hard, so I decided to take where it left off and keep on running
> 
> Unbeta-d

I walk a lonely road  
The only one that I have ever known  
Don't know where it goes  
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street  
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
Where the city sleeps  
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

* * *

"You can't stay here."

Four words. In all his millennia of existence, Cas knew of few other instances in history that have had such impact. He witnessed the caveman discover fire, rudimentarily spreading the knowledge among themselves; almost literally lighting the fire under human ingenuity. He witnessed Julius Caesar conquer thousands, Mohammad unite the Bedouins and Sassanid and Byzantines under a single black flag. He saw Paul of Taurus spread an idea throughout the developing world and Galileo discover the universe. He witnessed Martin Luther King bring about a revolution with simply, "I have a dream." He heard Armstrong when he took those first few steps on Earth's moon, and Charles Darwin discover the finches. He witnessed Hitler dropping out of art school and Confucius' teachings. He himself was present when Babylon was built, and even helped in the formation of the Great Wall.

But never- in all his memory, had he felt the stab in his gut so keenly as he did when those four words were spoken. Even April, when she forced his own blade through his stomach, had caused as much agony. Her cut was clean and sharp. Painful- but fast and short lived. It hadn't twisted and ripped around the tissue muscle and sinew that made up his heart. With April it hadn't gone on longer than ten seconds, allowing for a blissful absence of pain. This- this didn't end. It went on and on, never easing in its' attack. No forgiving darkness was waiting to pull him away- no space for escape.

Throughout it all, Dean just stared at him. It he tried- Cas could almost see regret and sorrow in his eyes. But that doesn't make any sense. Dean's the one kicking him out; if he wanted him to stay then this wouldn't be happening. The errant thought of 'why' bubbled up in his head. ' _Did I say something wrong? Did I do anything out of place?_ ' The specifics didn't matter. Not really.

The more he thought about it, the more it started to make sense. It was blatantly obvious- he almost was ashamed that he had ever thought otherwise. He was human now- useless. He barely knows how to feed himself, let alone be of any help on a hunt. It's not like they have the capacity to babysit him. There's only so long he could say he's learning – that he's trying. What's that Dean had said? _'Baby in a trench coat? Only babies whine?'_ Excuses were just that- and unless he became useful, of course they couldn't afford to have him around. He himself advocated for the severance of liabilities. Kind of an ironic shock to become one, though.

At the same time- a small selfish part of him, a little voice in the back of his head was disappointed. After all the years they'd known each other, after all he'd given up and sacrificed, he'd have though that he would have been allowed a little more time before being sent out and on his way. Sure he messed up, sure this was all his fault – but didn't they make mistakes as well? Gave ones? Phrases like _'I'd do anything for family'_ , _'I'd rather have you, cured or not'_ and _'Cas, it's me. We're family. We need you. I need you.'_ Rolled from ear to ear – floating in front of his face. If he really was family, didn't that make this his home to?

When these thoughts caught up with him, he was ashamed. Dean was only doing what he had to do- what made sense. The right thing- really. Thousands of angles were on the ground- thirsty for blood. His. All he would bring is more unnecessary complications for the two brothers.

Normally, when he was thinking, barely a second would have passed around him. Now though – his brain seemed slower; loosing its sharp decisive edge. It pained him slightly; the realization that the one thing that he thought remained untouched and his own was also compromised. He briefly wondered if that to, would be lost to him. If one day he would wake up and have forgotten all the lost civilizations, forgotten dialects, and erased history. Cas forcefully pushed the thoughts back. It wouldn't do any good to think about that now. Instead, he focused on the man in front of him. Dean was no longer looking at him, having turned away and was staring hard at his arm.

Voice thick, Cas forced the words out from around the blockage in his throat.

"Okay."

Dean's eyes flashed back to him- shock out and surprised anger showing in his eyes. Cas felt something swell in his chest. What did Dean want him to do, beg and plead just to be thrown out anyway? Dean may think that he's ignorant, but he could tell when something was hopeless and when he wasn't wanted. He could also tell when he wasn't needed. And his presence here- wasn't.

"I'll- go grab my stuff."

On immobile shaky legs, Cas pushed up from the chair and headed for what he had foolishly believed was his room. Shame burned through him and forced his head down. On his way he concentrated on breathing, trying to make it around the burn in his chest. He focused on the paradox that was his legs _. 'How could they be stiff and solid? Yet shaky and close to collapse? They almost feel liquefied- but also like two pillars. Was this natural? Did humans deal with this all the time? Or is it just another thing that sets me apart? Maybe if I breath in a different way…'_ These thoughts kept him going until he rounded the hallway to his room. He vaguely heard Dean shout his name- the syllable laced with frustration.

Cas had every intention of slipping into his room and closing the door before having to face Dean again. His head was roiling, skewing his vision. A pressure was building up behind his eyes- and the last thing he wanted to do was have to turn around and he looked at Dean. He saw the door and was almost inside, relief coursing through his veins. When he felt a heavy hand on his arm he tried to pull away, desperation seizing at his throat.

"Hey! Cas come on!"

"I'm allowed to grab my stuff before I go, right?" Cas rushed out. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing over anything that he could just fly out of this room. But then again, if he could do that, he wouldn't be having to hear this conversation in the first place. Couldn't he just have a minute to himself?

"What?! Cas no! You don't have to run out this minute! Let me just, look. I'm gonna set you up with Garth. He's a weird little guy, but I mean, you are to, so I'm sure you guys will get along fine. I have a couple of fake ID's and some cash you can grab. And then we're gonna need to gather some clothes and food… you can stay the night, Cas. We're not gonna throw you out on the streets, man. We're family.

Cas didn't know whether to cry or scream at his last statement. Instead, he did neither, and said the only thing he could think of.

"Thank you, Dean."

* * *

**So viola! Chapter 1! Please let me know what you think!**

**Read x Review .**

**~Magnolia**


	2. Parting Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly after, but before.

As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
And you begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life

* * *

 The sign above the terminal said the bus was delayed. Castile didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. on one hand, Dean was able to go on about some of the 'joys of humanity'. After discovering how amazing showers and food could be, Cas would have been ecstatic to find out what else was great about humanity- but now he couldn't really find the joy in anything. He guessed that was what happened when a life changing event happened in tandem with another event, like when people start associating a coffee shop with cozy warm memories from a certain point in your life, or when you look at baby clothes. The only difference for him, you could say, was that the association wasn't quite as pleasant. On the other hand, every breath he took felt like his throat was about to tear and collapse in on itself.

Sam had decided to stay back, stonily avoiding Dean after he told him that Cas had to leave. When he stepped out the front door of the bunker for the last time, Sam pulled him into a big hug and looked at his with wide sad eyes. It made him feel a bit better to know that someone would miss him. The better part of him knew that logic was flawed and pointless, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. With that being said, though, he was glad Sam had opted not to come. This farewell was awkward enough.

Dean was sitting stiffly on one of the plastic benches in front of the bus stop. The sky was heavy and grey. Cas really hoped it didn't rain- he didn't have any clothes to spare if it did. Dean was saying something about how Garth would have him all set when he got to the ship; all he had to do was hold out for three days and he'd be fine.

A lull in Dean's speech came about when a man came by and told him that the bus would be arriving in ten minutes. The harsh reality of his leaving rushed over him again. Everything he owned could fit in hand. Everything else was given to him. His body, his clothes, his satchel filled with money clothes and food, and his plans. The only thing he truly owned was his angel blade, and even that had been given to him by his superiors when he was first inducted into the garrison.

Looking to his right, Cas took in Dean's profile. His posture was stiff, and he kept alternating between clenching his fists and erratically tapping his leg against the concrete. Cas regarded him with a heavy heart. There are not many people he could count as friends; people like Anael and Balthazar were more family and partners than anything else. Everyone else he knew were just garrison members- working together efficiently towards a cause. Dean and Sam were the first people he had ever been able to call his friends. He found it amusing somewhat, that he had in the last few years experienced and grown more than the past several millennia. He had gained much through his time on earth, and while there was much he would change about his experiences, he wouldn't dare change a thing if it meant never knowing the Winchester brothers.

"It's curious."

Dean's eyes snapped up to meet his. Cas wished he could tell what he was feeling. So much was blocked off to him. He was always able to see a human soul. Even when he didn't know why Dean was angry or frustrated or happy with him, he at least knew that. It had become second nature to him to be able to feel emotions, and now that he couldn't he felt far out of his depth.

"This will be the first time I've been able to say goodbye."

Dean didn't say anything, just continued to stare at him with muddled eyes.

"In all the time we've known each other, every time we separated it had either been out of control or we've parted on… well, unfriendly terms. This time we're actually able to say goodbye."

Dean's faced morphed into another mix of unreadable emotions. He was so complex, a man built of off a mix of emotions, feelings, choices and opinions. Nothing about him could be taken at face value. He fit into no box- no category could fully define the man in front of him. Only in the rarest of times was he predictable- and even in those instances how he reacted or dealt with the situation was different. It was that about him that Cas found himself drawn to. In every moment Dean hurt him, angered him, frustrated him, or worked against him; Cas found himself more and more drawn to him. He wanted, _needed_ , to understand him. It was moments like this that Cas wanted to shake him or plead with him to tell his what he was feeling- what he was doing.

"Cas that's not. This isn't goodbye. This is just a pit stop, ya? Once we sort out this whole rogue reaper/angel mess we can all meet up and chug Viagra and braid hair. We can still keep in contact- my numbers programmed into your phone."

_That seems kind of cruel, don't you think Dean? I don't need to be granted this mercy_

Cas nodded his head in assent, not trusting himself to say anything.

"Good."

Dean nodded, looking back at the road in front of him. Before wither of them new it the bus finally pulled up. A sense of finality washed over Cas- one that he hadn't felt in a long time, even before his fall. Resolutely, Cas got up and shouldered his bag.

Dean stood up with him, and together they walked to the bus. When they reached the door, Cas stepped on. Dean didn't.

" _This isn't goodbye."_

Then what was it?

"I'll see you later."

Dean's eyes were set- screaming the certainty of his statement. It was intimidating, and Cas could only stand to stare at the confident man before him for so long.

"I'll look forward to it."

Cas boarded the bus, to weal or strong to look back; he couldn't tell which, he picked a seat on the opposite side of the bus, farthest from the spot where Dean stood watching. He didn't want to see his face. When the bus pulled out, Cas kept his eyes firmly on his jeans and busied himself with pulling at the loose threads.

After a few hours, the bus pulled into another station. When he inquired as to which bus to board, the attendant informed him that he would need to board the red train at 4:30.

Cas thanked her and went to sit on a bench as the train wasn't scheduled to arrive for another half hour. While he waited for his train to arrive, another train pulled into the station- a green one. Before his mind could catch up with what he was doing- he got up and found the woman who had directed him before and demanded she tell him where the train was headed.

Looking mildly ruffled, the girl gathered herself and said, "It's, let me check. That's right, it's headed to Dallas."

"Thank you."

Cas whirled around and headed to the ticket stand, hearing blood pound in his ear. In ten minutes, he found himself with an exchanged ticked for the green train and twenty less dollars in his pocket.

He didn't mind.

Three minutes after he settled down in the back of the bus, it pulled out of the station, taking with it the option of turning back and heading to Garth's with it. It wouldn't have mattered anyway- his mind was set. Hours later, Cas fell asleep to the sound of the street around him. He found that he hated that sound. It was reminiscent of the past. With his life shortened to one barely a millisecond of the length it would have been, Cas refused to let himself live in the past. The present was all he had, and avoiding it would only make time past by even faster than it already was. He needed to live as much as he could now, and if that meant doing it alone- well then he guessed that was his penance. Life would carry on- and so would he. Alone.

* * *

 The next day, the train pulled into a bright and sunny Dallas morning. Judging by the frankly garish plaque on the wall, Cas guessed he was in Texas. The first thing he did after stepping outside was to find a phone store. Two hours after finding a business, Cas walked out with a brand new flip phone. The first thing he did was program the few numbers from the phone Dean had given him into his new phone. He couldn't bear to part with them, even if it meant he would never use them.

After pocketing his phone, Cas flipped open the one Dean gave him and dialed one of the five programmed numbers on the phone.

"Garth- hello. You don't need to make arrangements for my stay anymore; Dean and I talked and decided that it would be better for me to stay. Apologies if you already went out of your way to accommodate me- it won't be necessary."

"No problem hermano! Glad you two idjits could sort it out. Keep in touch, won't ya?"

"Of course Garth- we'll 'keep in touch'."

Cas hung up and flipped the phone over. After extracting the memory and SD cards, Cas cracked and broke them apart; he then did the same with the body. When the entirety of the phone was reduced to a pile of shattered plastic and glass, Cas gathered up the shards and emptied them into the trash. Cas found himself with a bag of clothes, two days worth of food, a sawed-off gun, simple medical supplies, a fake identity, 480 dollars to his name, and an uncertain future. Cas headed to the nearest motel, intent on starting his life the next morning.

" _Goodbye, Dean."_

* * *

**So there you have it! Chapter 2 is officially a go.**

**The good news is, I'm really liking this story and I'm having a lot of free time in my classes today so there is a very high chance of me updating by next Friday night/Saturday morning.**

**In other news- I get to go to Six Flags tomorrow! Here's to not freezing/dying!**

**Read x Review**

**~Magnolia**


	3. Brick By Boring Brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has to make a life for himself- how he does that, is up to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! So the new ep left me a bit annoyed with just how willingly Cas worked with Dean again. I feel like he deserved an explanation or something before just...jumping back in, and I kind of feel like this incredible complex and intricate character has sort of turned into just a comic relief character...but maybe it's just me :/ Anyhoo- here is the new chapter!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you all make me super happy and stoked to keep writing!

I was left to my own devices  
Many days fell away with nothing to show

Oh where do we begin?  
The rubble or our sins?  
Oh oh where do we begin?  
The rubble or our sins?

* * *

 Castiel spent the first month of his new life flitting around, never staying longer than a few days in a certain area. He would take up odd jobs and sleep in shelters; not wanting to waste the money he had been given or risk using the credit card that could very well be tracked. Instead, he used his money sparingly- only using it for food and, on rare occasions, transportation. Slowly, he found himself back at his original $500, and every passing day the value increased, albeit slowly.

Right as he started getting used to an area, signs of angels popped up- forcing him to run out of the city. Everything he owned still fit in the single bag, and leaving was a simple matter of picking it up and running to the nearest bus station. He never slept those nights. Those nights, his blood would curl at any sound, his heart pound at the slightest movement or flicker of light. Slowly, after what felt like years, the sun would begin to peak over the horizon and the new day would arrive. Cas was exhausted, terrified, and drained; but on the first shuttle out of the city. He never bothered to ask where he was headed, anymore. It didn't matter.

Eventually, angels stopped showing up at his every turn. He would have been relieved that they had eventually lost his trail if the angels hadn't been replaced by reapers. Two of them jumped him at night, neither even bothering with deception. If it wasn't for his ingrained reflexes, he would have been dead.

As it was, he barely had enough energy to drag himself to the nearest hospital before he collapsed in a bloody heap. He didn't wake up until three days later with two broken ribs, a bruised lung, and a concussion. Cas ran out of the hospital before they could ask him questions. Or worse- try to charge him. The next month was hard, especially with the constant moving around. Every breath hurt his chest, but there was little he could do about it.

As soon as his ribs had healed enough for him to get around efficiently, Cas went to a tattoo parlor and updated his tattoo, adding four new lines of text to render him invisible to even reapers. Now, the only time they would be able to find him would be when his heart stopped beating.

Three months into his new life, Cas found himself in California; a thousand miles away from where his bus first landed, and on the opposite side of the country from the bunker. That fact registered with him one day while he was working in a park and it almost made him feel relieved. He tried not to think about why.

After living in a shelter for two weeks without either an angel or a reaper showing up within fifty miles of his location, Cas decided he could get a real job.

The good thing about working forty odd jobs was that Cas had developed a form of resume. He could do a little of everything, and was no longer an idiot when it came to all things human. The next morning, Cas showed up at the history museum- excited to finally work a real job. Shocked would be putting it lightly when Cas got kicked out of the museum within the first five minutes of entering the doors.

The two guards who manhandled him out of the museum pushed him out into the snow. "This is a reputable establishment, not a place for the homeless. If you need a heater, you can try Sister Ann's."

With that, Cas found the door unceremoniously closed in his face, and even more confused than before. Looking down at himself, Cas realized what the guards had seen. His shoes were worn in, so much so that he could see his toes through the holes in the front. His jeans were ripped up and filthy caked in mud and questionable stains. His hoodie, he could say, had definitely seen better days. He also realized that a heavy odor was hanging over him. When feeling his head, he found his hair to be matted down and gritty, and his stubble to have grown out into a thick coarse beard. All in all- he could say that he didn't look right for the job- or any job.

With that in mind Cas went to the nearest Wal-Mart. Two hours later and $120 less, he walked out with two new shirts, two pairs of pants, a packet of underwear, black shoes, soap, a jacket, and some sleeping attire. With his purchases, Cas went back to the shelter; talking care to hide his new items where they couldn't get stolen.

The next morning, Cas showered, taking care to make sure he was clean everywhere. After dressing in his new clothe one look in the mirror showered him to be back to how he once recognized himself, save for the almost shoulder length hair and beard he now sported. Not wanting to risk getting denied again, Cas went to a hair salon.

The woman who cut his hair was friendly, even if she did talk about her life and her frankly wild relationship with her ex-boyfriend a bit too much. Throughout most of the experience, Cas allowed himself to zone out and get lost in the feeling of her hands massaging into his skill. Eventually, they were replaced by a towel, and from there a pair of scissors. Before he knew it, she was turning his chair around to face the mirror.

Cas barely recognized himself. His hair was floppy, a little longer then it had been when he first inhabited Jimmy, but definitely shorter than it had been in the past three months. On top of that, his face was now smooth- for the first time completely clean of the perpetual stubble that he had gotten accustomed to having. He found himself looking years younger; full of energy and purpose.

He told the hairstylist so, and she laughed- a light, tinkling sound, and leaned down, looking at them both in a mirror,

"Never let anyone say you don't clean up well."

Smiling in return, Cas got up and thanked her. On his way out, he paid the receptionist, taking care to fill out the survey on a job well done, even if it took him an extra twenty minutes to do so.

* * *

 Returning to the museum was almost comical. This time, the guards nodded to him and wished him a good day. They didn't even recognize him. He didn't hold it to them however, he didn't recognize himself either.

With a little bit of effort, Cas found the offices, and twenty minutes after that he was handed an application. Slightly altering the truth, he filled out the application and handed it back to the bored looking woman behind the desk. She gave it a cursory glance before her heavily made up eyes widened dramatically.

"If you'd just like to wait here, sir; I can have an interview set up right away."

After receiving a confirmation nod from 'Chance', she turned around and got off her chair, rocking in her slightly shocking high heels. Castiel sat back down in his chair and waited for her return.

Twenty minutes later, the girl returned with a man who looked to be in his early 60's. Cas put down the magazine he was reading entitled, "Who's Hot, Who's Not: The Best and Worst of 2013", and got up to greet him.

"Hello, Mr. Novak. I read over your application and you seem more than qualified for this position. I noticed however, that no one is listed as a reference or a contact. Now normally, that would be a problem for our applicants- but if it turns out that we are sorely lacking in staff right now and if you are as knowledgeable as you seem- we could really use you as part of our team."  
An hour after Cas truly showed them just how much history he knew, he found himself with five company shirts, a walkie talkie, a name badge with a set of keys, and a few other job miscellaneous items.

"I really hope you will enjoy your occupation here. A man with your insight should be able to more than feel at home as part of our staff. And I can assure you, the work as well as the pay is more than rewarding."

"It's a privilege and reward on its own to be able to work with you."

After shaking hands, Cas left the museum- elated to start work the following Monday and not have to spend another week cleaning public bathrooms or lifting workplace machinery. This was something he knew he was good at, and he was excited to finally be able to show a degree of skill.

Unfortunately, after checking the newspaper, Cas found out it was Tuesday, meaning a full six more days before he could start working. And- due to his surplus of spending, he was once again running low on funds. Not being able to afford to go back to the way he looked a day ago, he realized that he was going to have to find a way to earn money in the meantime. Not knowing what else to do, Castiel walked into the nearest bar and asked for a job.

The bar was empty, as it was early in the morning. A woman much like Ellen greeted him behind the counter. When he asked about a possible job opening, the woman listed a bottle of clear alcohol from behind the counter and a round of shot glasses. After filling each one to the top, she slid them over the counter.

"If you're to work here, I have to be sure you can handle your alcohol. Can't have pretty boys like you getting drunk and stumbling around back here on duty."

Seven rounds of shots later, and she stood in an impressed silence and Cas glowed proudly- only slightly buzzed.

"Well, I guess that answers the question about you getting hammered. Your blood could turn to liquor before you got drunk- and we'd run out of hard stuff before you do."

Elated, Cas walked out of the bar set to work the night shift on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday.

* * *

 Two weeks after the first day- Cas actually found himself busy. He worked 9:30 to t throughout the week at the museum, and from 8 pm to 2 am at the bar four days a week. It was also then, that Nora, his manager, offered him a room.

"You've been working here for a little bit and you haven't tried to steal cash from the register or anything yet and I haven't heard you mention where you lived and well- my daughter Tanya left for college two years ago, so there's an empty room upstairs. If you wanted to, you could move in."

"Thank you Nora, but I honestly couldn't take advantage of your hospitality like that. It's more than enough that you offered me this job and I-"

"I insist. If you wanted, I could take it out of your pay, thought that's truly unnecessary."

Cas let out a hesitant smile, and nodded his head."

"I think I would like that."

* * *

Six months into his new life, Cas had a family. He made friends with Tyler and Alison at the museum as well as Nora, Tanya, and Bill from the bar. Around Christmas time, Tanya came back to visit with her new boyfriend Cody in toe. Upon seeing Cas, she grabbed him and forced him into a group picture. Cas smiled just as wide a cheesily as the others, and quickly became overcome with the Christmas spirit just as much as the others were.

On Christmas Eve, Nora asked him, or more informed him, that he would be joining them for Christmas dinner. Cas said yes. Turns out that being asked to dinner didn't just mean the actual dinner. It also included partaking in the Christmas music and festivities. Once they caught wind that he could play the piano, they all but forced him down onto the bench and demanded he play. His fingers effortlessly glided across the keys, and within minutes he was singing just as loudly as the rest of them.

Later that night, Cas- to his utter surprise, was gifted a knit sweater from Nora, a fishing rod from Bill, and picture frames filled with candid shots of them all throughout the night from Tanya. Cas didn't know what to say.

He carried them gently upstairs to his room and placed them on his bureau, directly next to the brand new laptop he received from the guys down at the museum.

That night he hung up the pictures on the previously barren walls. The sappy grins from all their faces in the pictures shown back at him, and seemed to radiate warmth into the room. Already, the chill of the winter air seemed not as consuming.

This was his family. He struggled, he fell; but he found it- all on his own. It's small- but definitely still good.

Yeah. Still good.

* * *

**So there it is! Hope you liked it!**

**~Magnolia**


	4. Better Days But Colder Weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for the feedback; you guys will never know how happy it makes me. Whenever I have a bad day I just read the and feel 3000X better :)
> 
> ALSO! I am SO excited to know that you guys share my frustration with Cas' arc- I seriously was starting to think I was the only one as all the other spin offs of this episode had Cas just crawl right back the second they asked him to so I assumed that's what everyone wanted. So glad that's not the case!

Strong enough to leave you  
But weak enough to need you  
Cared enough to let you walk away  
I took that dirty jacket  
And walked away

* * *

 

Cas greatly enjoyed his work at the museum. Originally, he worked in the backroom and walked around the museum – meant to just answer questions. Quickly, however, the curator gave him his own tours to lead. Soon after- he ran his own.

The tours were his favorite part of working at the museum. He led two to three a day and each time was like the first. Teaching was always something he enjoyed- in his early days of joining his garrison, before he was a soldier; he was chosen to teach other angels battle maneuvers. He taught classes for centuries – and his students went on to be some of the most revered soldiers of the time. He had been renowned for his teaching skills, known by many as The Second Inspired Word.

He would have continued as a teacher, had there not been a draft for one of the early uprisings of the Nights of Hell. He was one of many in the battalion, but he found it exhilarating to actually perform what he had only taught. During the war, which lasted only 200 years, Cas not only used his techniques, he made new ones – improved formations until they were state of the art.

After the war, he was offered to go back to his old job, but he refused. After experiencing what being on the front lines were like, Cas wouldn't – couldn't go back to his old job. Instead, he chose his prodigy, Samandriel, to take over for him. The kid had been smart, an apt learner, and he knew he could teach the classes well.

As for him, he enrolled in tactical school and from there became an official member of the garrison. It was the last time he taught – and he forgot how much he missed it until now.

Even if leading groups of people and retelling simplified versions of their own history wasn't quite the same as teaching the brightest minds of the ages, he still loved it. He loved the ones in front who were invested in every word he spoke, the ones in the middle who were interested but not _that_ interested and the ones in the back who wished they were anywhere but there. At the end of every work day – Cas would wash his coffee cup and put it back in the lounge right next to the wall towards the back, take off his badge and vest, and return to the bar.

He would then go and rest, attempting to recharge in time for his shift. It was habitual- it was time consuming- and it was perfect.

It was 2 am, and the bar was basically empty save for a few stragglers. Cas finished wiping down all the counter tops and surfaces 10 minutes ago, and was idly cleaning the machinery as he waited for Nora to kick out the last of the drunken crowd. She was sweet- charming when she wanted to be, but Cas had quickly learned not to do anything to get on her bad side.

Finding her guiding out the intoxicated customers, Cas took the trash bags and carried them out back to the dumpster. The air was freezing and he could see his breath frost in the air around him. Walking as fast as he could to the dumpster, he threw the bags into the bin and walked swiftly back to the door. The hairs on his arms stood up and even though the trip to the trashcan took less than 2 minutes, Cas wished he had remembered to bring jacket.

As he rounded the alley to the back, he stopped dead in his tracks. At the end of the road next to the wall, two of the men from earlier were throwing glass bottles at a screaming animal. They were clearly drunk and each noise the animal made sent them into peals of ugly laughter.

Cas stood frozen as the scene unfolded – and was only snapped back into action when one of them lurched forward and kicked the bundle of fur into the air; sailing back until it hit the wall with a sideways thud and fell to the floor.

Cas ran towards the two men and yanked him back. The force of his pull sent his stumbling back, hitting his head and one of the protruding rails just right, sending his crashing into an unconscious stupor. The other man was not so caught off guard and sent one of his fists sailing into Cas's face. The sting of the punch was off-kiltering and it took him several see straight again.

In the time that it took him to reorient himself, the drunkard had slugged him in the stomach over, twice, three times before Cas was able to grab his arm and swing him around into the wall. Much like his friend, the impact sent him straight to the ground, doing little more than groaning and rolling onto his stomach.

Cas wheezed and clutched his stomach feeling the burn and pounding off the hits already. Winded, Cas breathed thinly through his teeth as he headed over to the animal that the two had been abusing.

It slunk against the wall- barely recognizable as anything living. Upon closer inspection- Cas was surprised to find it was a cat. His fur was sludge grey and matted through with blood. Patches of his hair seemed to be missing or pulled out, and overall the animal barely looked to be holding it together.

Trying not to move too fast or to appear to be a threat, Cas walked towards it, holding out his hands to the side in a placating gesture. When he stood 5 feet in front of it, in exaggerated movements he crouched down and waited.

Slowly, time passed by and still the cat continued to only watch him warily. Cas' back started to cramp up and his legs were burning. His lungs hurt – and each breath at the icy air sent pins and needles screaming down his throat. Just as he was about to give up hope of the cat coming near him, the cat slowly stretched to creep towards him. Cas set his teeth - and waited.

10 minutes, or a year later, and the tattered animal was sniffing his hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, it turned its head into his palm. Taking that as the most open invitation he was going to get, Cas scooped the cat into his hand and brought it down to his chest.

Now directly in front of him, Cas saw that the cat was even worse off then he thought. Beneath all the blood, there looked to be a huge cut in its paws, and its right eye was swollen shut. Cas felt its stomach. His blood froze up when he felt how cold it was and how faint the heart beat.

Without a second more thought, Cas straightened up and all but ran down the street, ignoring the burst of cold as a bitter wind tore down the road. In seconds, he reached the door of the bar. Lifting up his shirt to hold the cat to his chest, he quickly ascended the stairs and flew into his room.

He closed the door tightly before turning around and gently holding the cat up into the light. No vet was open at this time, and there was no way Cas was going to let it out onto the street. Making up his mind- he brought the cat into the bathroom and filled up the sink. When the water was lukewarm, he gently placed the animal's legs deep in water and took up the soap.

He only got more and more worried when the cat didn't even react to the water and gently soaped up the cat and massaged the dirt and blood out of its fur. The cat purred and moved further into his hands.

Eventually he did all he could do and placed the cat into a towel. He walked over to the bed and taking his laptop with him, he sat on the bed. As he checked emails and read the news, he massaged warmth and life back into its scrawny body- trying to chase away the last of the cold and water. As time went on, the cat traded in shivering for purring, and lay down in the towel.

* * *

The next morning, Cas woke up to a face full of fur. The little creature had sat itself directly on his face. Cas reached up and carefully moved it to the side, and contemplated the little guy. It looked quite a ways better then the day before, but its eye was still inflamed and he didn't know if he would trust him to walk on his bad leg.

In effect, Cas got up, showered, and dressed- intent on taking that cat down to the vet before work. By the time he was ready, the cat was watching him from its place on the bed, not moving from its spot within the blankets. Not wanting to arrive later then he already knew he was- Cas walked over and scooped the cat up in his arms and walked out the door.

Nora was still asleep in her room, but Cas was careful to quickly exit the hall for fear of her seeing the little animal. He knew very well that she had a 'no animals allowed' rule which was largely influenced by her severe allergies. Just to be sure, Cas once again stuffed the cat under his jacket, not wanting to take any chances on his way out.

When he arrived at the vets, a kindly older lady treated the animal and have it several shots and antibiotics. She talked to him for several minutes, telling him how to go about the several days and what foods to feed it to help in its recovery.

"So!" she asked, smiling, "What's her name?"

"her? It's a girl? I mean ah- of course. Her name is… Ghost?" Cas fidgeted, hoping his obvious lack of knowledge wasn't picked up. Instead of calling him out on not actually owning a pet- she smiled and looked at the animal.

"Well, I can't say that name doesn't fit. Where did you find such a beautiful animal?"

He had to agree with her on that. The cat that had once been grey and bedraggled was beautiful. Her hair was shockingly pure white, and its eyes were two sapphires. Nothing about it said stray, and it was an honest work of art.

"You could say she just fell into my path."

* * *

Later, after paying the ridiculously expensive bill, Cas left with Ghost in his arms, intent on getting insurance as soon as possible. Over the course of the next two weeks, Cas set up a small little section in the corner of his room where he kept the cat. He made sure to do his own laundry and never left his door open for fear of her running away and into trouble. All day at work at the museum and bar he feared that something would happen that would cause Ghost to be discovered and him have to leave her, and every day after work he would spend time playing with her in his room; no matter how tired he was.

Ghost fit seamlessly into his daily life- and eventually he started thinking of her more like a friend then an animal. She was so intelligent, and looked at him when he talked to her like she understood what he was saying, sometimes he swore she did.

In the beginning, he set up an area for her to sleep on the floor, but after waking up to Ghost being curled up either on his pillow or his chest, Cas gave up trying to make her sleep anywhere else. If he was being honest, which he usually was with her, he greatly enjoyed the company.

She was perfect, and was one of the best friends he could have asked for.

* * *

**Ok- shorter chapter; but this week has been INSANE. I had 3 tests alone and of them consisted World Geography, Calc, and Chemisty and needless to say I am so tired I can't even function.**

**This isn't my favorite writing by far, and I apologize, but I promise the next chapter will be far better.**

**ALSO! Never fear! Sam and Dean WILL be back shortly, just need to have a bit more scene setting done!**

**Did anyone get the reference with the cat and who's it is? I hope so!**

**~Magnolia**


	5. Bumps in the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not every day was easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am saddened that none of y'all caught who Ghost was- oh well, I shall tell you.
> 
> Ghost is the cat that Osric went crazy over on his instagram. Stanley is Osric's friend who found Ghost broken and bloody and messed up in a parking garage and decided to keep her. Of course, this cat turned out to be the prettiest and most gorgeous cat in the world and y'all need to look at her Jesus Christ she is pretty but ya, that is who I stole Ghost from :) (Go to Osric Chau's instagram to see all the pics he posted of her.)

I can hold my breath  
I can bite my tongue  
I can stay awake for days  
If that's what you want

I can fake a smile  
I can force a laugh  
I can dance and play the part  
If that's what you ask

But I'm only human  
And I bleed when I fall down  
I'm only human  
And I crash and I break down  
Your words in my head, knives in my heart  
You build me up and then I fall apart

* * *

Cas had been employed for four months now, and with his living arrangement being all but free, he had saved up a large amount of money. Not only did the two jobs pay well, his promotion at the museum had greatly increased his income. Coupled with the fact that he didn't spend much of the money on anything but food for himself and Ghost, the money that he had been accumulating in his bank account was flourishing.

Each time a check came in the mail, Cas quickly sent all but $100 dollars a month into his account, and every time he felt something very akin to pride expand in his chest. It would build up and bubble, and Cas would turn to look over his shoulder with a small smile on his face and mirth in his eyes to say, _Still a baby in a trench coat?,_ to the green eyed man behind him, only to quickly realize that he wasn't there, and _wouldn't_ ever be there. The second he realized what he was doing, his smile would falter and crack, and his heart rate would sky rocket and his breath would harshen. Spiraling for something, Cas would duck his head and quickly scoop up Ghost. The time it took for his breath and heart to return to normal varied, ranging between five minutes or two hours. Whichever the case, he always ended up frustrated, exhausted, and metaphorically back on square one.

Today was one of the more brutal occasions, and Cas found himself paralyzed for around an hour and a half. The second he was back to himself, he fell asleep on the bed fully clothed. If it wasn't for Nora's incessant knocking at his door half an hour later, he would have been late for work. When he finally got back at to his room at half past 2 in the morning, Cas collapsed onto the bed and immediately was dead to the world.

He found that just because he was asleep, didn't mean that he was resting. On those nights, green would flash under his eyelids, and the smell of leather and bitter coffee would invade his senses. Old rock would buzz behind his ears, and snarky comments would float and bounce back and forth through his skull.

Those nights were the best nights of his life, and every morning when he would be unceremoniously woken up by his alarm would find his exhausted and heavy hearted. He didn't cry much past the first time, but the red that rimmed his eyes never left him. On those days, he was quiet- and he would walk past Nora on his way out and past his friend at the museum in silence.

He put on a mask- straightened his shoulders and schooled his expression. When he looked in the mirror, he saw Castiel, the angel of the lord- complete with his blank expression and perfect posture. Seeing himself this way brought about many conflicting and confusing emotions in him, but just as before he pushed them out and to the side where they slowly died and were replaced by his base instincts for the day. Smile at the attendants, walk slowly and pause in front of every other painting, remind people not to use flash or talk to loud, recite skeleton facts about the paintings, lead them back to the main room, thank them for coming out, and head to the backroom where he would wait for the next group.

The repetition of the day slowly calmed his nerves, and by the time his shift had ended and he was ready to take up his position at the bar, Cas was back. He was amiable, and laughed and smiled with the guys at the bar before heading up to his room where he would shift Ghost off his pillow before claiming it for himself.

He didn't much care for those days.

* * *

  **Yes it's short- yes I apologize.**

**QOTD: Are the song lyrics annoying? Would you rather I didn't?**

**Love you guys! Read x Review!**

 


	6. This Place is My Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suprise! Two updates this week! I know I know, I'm awesome :D
> 
> On another note- I've been thinking about the possibility of turning this story...not so pg, and it seems this time it's finally happened.
> 
> So! If you do not want to read a minor scene of sorts... don't read this?

Staring at the bottom of your glass   
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last  
But dreams come slow and they go so fast

You see him when you close your eyes  
Maybe one day you'll understand why  
Everything you touch surely dies

* * *

Cas was excited- foot tapping, blood pounding, spastic movements type of excited. Every now and then he would trail off on one of his sentences to look off over the heads of the crowd to stare at a spot on the wall for an incongruous amount of time before snapping back into himself and smile slightly and bite his lip. It earned him quite a few head turns, but he elected to ignore the odd looks before bounding on to the next gallery to animatedly talk about one of the paintings again.

He'd never experienced this type of feeling before, and he found it exhilarating if slightly cumbersome in its total encompassing of his senses. It was all he could do to not just run home to just get to it, but he resisted and continued to lead the tours. Every few minutes he would glance over to the clock above the wall to find the minute hand barely moved at all. Annoyed but not deterred, Cas would internally huff and walk the group a little bit faster, trying to convince himself and the clock that the faster he went, the faster the time would go.

At one point, when he was on break, Tyler pulled him aside.

"Hey dude, did you hear about the new exhibit we're about to put up?"

In Cas' defense, he did try to pay attention. He really did.

"Hmm?"

It was peculiar. His mouth was moving- and his hands were going and his eyes were sparkling- yet Cas could not really hear what was coming out of his mouth. Everytime he tried to focus on what he was saying he would look over at the clock or start planning out what he was going to do when…

"So ya. It's going to be awesome! Next week dude. Just remember- you're off on Monday and Tuesday as their won't be any tours to lead due to the installation."

"Sounds great." Cas said distractedly. They 'held a conversation' for a couple more minutes before he was required to get ready for the next tour, and said their goodbyes.

Finally, _years_ after his shift started, it was 6:00 and he was able to leave. He all but ran out the door, choosing to disregard the amused smirks of his coworkers in favor of jumping on the metro and returning to the bar.

The whole way back, his heart was racing. Making the decision hadn't been easy- but once he made it he knew it was the right one. He could do it- he had the funds, he had the reason. In all honestly he was surprised he hadn't decided to do something like this sooner. What made it even better was that it was Friday, and he was all but off until Wednesday.

The second he got back, he sat on the bed and pulled out his computer. Within minutes he pulled up the browser and had apartment websites open.

His decision to get his own place was at first difficult. He had a room here, but quickly he realized that having one room above a bar with one bathroom between himself and his employer wasn't much of a living arrangement. He found that he had been more like squatting then living, and the benefits of having a place to himself seemed high. It also came with the perk of no longer being reliant on anyone, Of course Nora was lovely, but he felt as if he would feel far more accomplished if he no longer was living off the kindness of others. Besides, Nora hadn't been expecting him to live their forever.

It was then that he had truly committed to the idea, and he had spent the whole other night staring up at the ceiling in this room as he tried to sleep imagining what his own place would be like. Obviously it would have to allow pets, as Ghost would be joining him, but what else would it have?

_It would need to have a huge bedroom, with a bed soft enough to all but drown in… and the shower! That would have to be perfect…_

Cas had spent the whole day at work imagining what his house would look like, and counting down the hours it would take for him to go home and officially start looking up specific places.

That whole night once he got home Cas locked himself in his room, taking full advantage of himself not working that night to look up all the available apartments in his area. He searched the web for 10 hours, staying up until 4:30 to find the perfect apartment. After searching through ones that were to big, to small, to far, to dingy, to expensive, Cas came across three apartments that he could truly see himself living in. They were small but not crowded, easily big enough for two people, let alone one. Before he fell asleep, Cas sent out an email to have a realtor meet with him to show him around the apartments as soon as possible. As soon as he sent it off, Cas slipped out of his clothes and flopped back onto the bed, exhausted but exhilarated to _finally_ be self reliant.

When he woke up, the first thing he did was check his email. His heart all but stopped as he saw a return email from the realator, and it was with a tight stomach that he opened it and read its contents.

What he saw all but made him want to jump in the air. Monday. Monday at nine o'clock he would go to pick his apartment. His. His apartment.

* * *

The weekend could not have past so slowly, and he spent it checking and rechecking his bank account to make sure he would have enough for the down payment and at least the next four months. Of course he did, he knew he did, but the risk of him not checking and the money disappearing was to great- and do every couple hours he would check again, just to be sure.

When Monday finally came, Cas was up at six, and paced hi room for the following two hours. Finally, at eight- he went downstairs and across the street to grab a coffee and eat a small breakfast of eggs and sausage before heading out to the first of the three apartments. He was fifteen minutes early, but he spent the whole time grinning like a madman up at the complex to notice the time passing.

The woman arrived to show him around at 9:07:23, and Cas would have been upset if he wasn't so excited to see the apartment. The first one was nice, but he found the noise of the street to be to noticeable. When he went on to the second one, he found it perfect, save for the size of the bathroom. It was small- barely enough room for a stand in shower. Starting to panic that he wouldn't find his perfect apartment, Cas was lead to the last of the three apartments.

He should have known the best would have been saved for last, and he wasn't disappointed. The complex was a small one, and set back from the street by a short gravel road that led to the gated complex. Once inside, Cas found the exposed brick layout of the apartment to be endearing, as well as the stone countertops and fireplace. He was absolutely sold on the building before he even looked at the bedroom, but when he did he felt like he had died and returned to his heaven. The room was massive, and sitting in the middle was a king sized bed, proudly taking up a good portion of the room. A small bookcase lay in the corner, and to the right lay a connecting bathroom that was almost just as big as the bedroom itself. Inside was a huge shower with an impressive showerhead, and he knew before even trying it that the water pressure would be magnificent. Along with the shower was a huge bathtub with accompanying jets. Not even bothering to consider the purchase further, Cas returned to the realtor and agreed to buy the apartment.

At 4:00, three hours after laying eyes on his apartment, Cas was left with a certificate of ownership, keys, and a fully furnished apartment. Happy did not even begin to encompass the emotion that enveloped him.

An hour later, Cas returned to the bar to surprise Nora with the good news. Not wanting to spend another night at the bar with his own apartment ready to be moved into, Cas packed up his belongings. He was surprised to note it did not all fit into one bag as it used to, but Nora came upstairs and knocked on his door, offering to drive him and his things down to his new house. He was about heartily agree, before he registered Ghost walking past the bed.

"Oh- no Nora, it's fine. I can just go down to the corner store and get a few extra bags. I don't need to inconvenience you."

Cas went to the door, intent on stepping out to go do just that, when her hand and frankly her whole body blocked the way.

"Clarence. Stop. You know very well it's not much trouble as the bar doesn't open for three more hours. Furthermore, I want to see what kind of place you got for yourself."

Nora walked out of the room, clealy sending a message that the issue was not to be further discussed. As she neared the stairs, she turned around a shouted back towards his room.

"And no, the cat you've been hiding up their won't be a problem. I've been taking pills for a couple of weeks now, so it won't be a problem."

Slightly shocked that Ghost hadn't been quite as inconspicuous as he had hoped, Cas gathered up what he could of his things and deposited them in her car before grabbing the rest of them. When he was all packed, he sheepishly waited outside the car for Nora with Ghost in his arms. When she appeared, Cas scrubbed his hand along the base of his neck.

" I was planning on asking you to let her stay. But with your allergies I wasn't sure.."

She came around and got in the driver's seat, and Cas took that as an opportunity to settle down in the car.

"It's fine. Better to ask for forgiveness then permission, right? It _did_ give me quite a shock when I ran into her, to be honest. I almost tripped over her and had a heart attack."

Cas shot Ghost a glare, trying to convey his annoyance at her non-cooperation with his eyes, but he doubted she got it.

"Either way; I'm sorry. I should've asked."

Nora nodded beside him, and turned to flash a smile his way before turning her eyes back to the road. Before long, Cas directed her to the apartment complex and was leading her inside. He was excited to know what she thought, and the suspense of watching her walk around with a curious look in her eye was enough to make him almost split. When she was done surveying the place, she turned around and walked over to him. Without saying anything, Nora threw her arms around Cas's shoulders.

"You've done great, Clarence. Amazing. This place is beautiful. I'm so proud."

Cas' heart squeezed at her words, and he buried his head in her shoulder. _He'd done good- great. She was proud of him._

* * *

Later that night after he had moved all of his stuff into the house and Nora had returned to the bar, granting him a night off for the first time to, "settle into his new life, "Cas slipped into the bed. He all but melted into the soft mattress, and fell asleep faster than he had in a long time.

* * *

The dream returned- worse than ever. This time it was different though, instead of flashed of memories, it was a scene. Cas was at his house, and Dean was at the door. Cas led him in, takingup in the man's hard frame and smiling face.

Before he was aware what was happening, he was leading Dean around the house- showing him every room and delighted when every time Dean would smile at him and lean down to kiss his ear.

"It's wonderful Cas. I'm so proud. You deserve this."

The scene shifted, and his dream self was leading Dean into the bedroom. He waited for Dean to turn to him and tell him what he thought, Dean's hand firm around his waist. When he was through surveying the room, he turned to look Cas in the eye and pulled him flush against his body. Then slowly, oh so slowly, his hand trailed around to the small of his back and slipped under his shirt.

His hand was burning, and it was all Cas could do to reach forward and grab onto the hunter's jacket. Next thing he knew, they were both pulling at clothes and trading heated kisses. Their tongues battled, and they soaked in each other's bodies. Pulling and groping quickly turned to grinding, and right as he felt like he was about to burst with happiness and urgency Dean walked him back to the bed and pushed him backwards bed before quickly crawling over him.

Dean kissed his way up Cas' body, pausing to swirl his tongue around each of Cas' nipples, causing him to arch up into the touch and cry out. Chuckling, Dean teasingly bit the hardened nub and continued his journey upward, giving special attention to his neck and the patch of skin behind his ear. It was all Cas could do to not cry out, and when Dean finally made his way up to his lips he paused, and looked Cas in the eye.

Panting for breath, Cas looked up at the man before him. He was beautiful, his lips reddened and plush. A red hue was spreading around his chest, and his _eyes_. Cas could barely see the shock of green around his enlarged pupils, and it that sight didn't cause Cas to throb and groan, he didn't know what would.

Dean's eyes softened as he stared at him, and then slowly, Dean leaned down and placed his lips at Cas' ear.

"So proud Cas. I love y-"

Cas woke up spluttering. His head was spinning, and a piercing pain shot through his back and neck. Disoriented, exhausted, and shaking Cas stumbled out of the bed and into the bathroom. He was crying. He could feel the tracks of tears run down his face but he didn't care. _I was over this. I was done. I'd moved on god fucking dammit! I..I don't need this. I can't want this. Stop thinking about him! I don't… I can't!..."_

Thoughts spiraling away from him, Cas finally fumbled for his sleeping pills. He had got them a few weeks ago after he first started losing sleep to his nightmares. And they _were_ nightmares.

When his hands finally closed around the bottle, he ripped of the cap and swallowed a few dry before throwing the bottle back onto the sink and crawling back into his bed. He was sobbing and barely coherent, but he didn't care. He couldn't, wouldn't deal with this then. He was through. He had a new life, a better one! And he would act like it.

Quickly, the pills started to take effect and Cas started to calm down again. The tears didn't stop, but his muscles forcibly relaxed back into the bed and his mind clouded over.

The rest of his night was dream free, and he couldn't be more thankful for it.

* * *

**...What did you think?**

**Read x Review!**

**~Magnolia**


	7. Relapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Did you guys know it snowed in Texas today? It was a pretty big deal :D

You never go  
Your always here (suffocating me)  
Under my skin  
I cannot run away  
Fading slowly

I'd give it all to you  
Letting go of me  
Reaching as I fall  
I know it's already over now  
Nothing left to lose  
Loving you again  
I know it's already over, already over now

My best defense, running from you  
I can't resist, take all you want from me  
Breaking slowly

I'd give it all to you  
Letting go of me  
Reaching as I fall  
I know it's already over now  
Nothing left to lose  
Loving you again  
I know it's already over, already over now!

* * *

Waking up was one of Cas' least favorite thing about being human, followed quickly by falling asleep. It was disorienting and a sign of weakness. Every time he woke up he felt like he was unceremoniously thrown head first back into the world. His head would spin, his stomach would roll, and he would have no idea what time or even day it was until several minutes later when he had finally collected himself enough to grab his phone from the nightstand and squint through the glare to translate the blur on the screen into the answer. His muscles were slow to cooperate, and he couldn't think straight.

Cas had come to the decision that he was not, in fact, a morning person. Or a night person, really, as it took him hours to finally relax his muscles long enough to sleep.

It was because of this, really, that Cas had taken to sleeping pills. They were efficient, and took away the need for him to force himself to relax enough. He decided that being forced into submitting was better than submitting on his own free will- so it was with that logic that Cas began to take them.

Their timing worked out perfectly as well. Their effect would start to wear off about half an hour before his alarm would go off, leaving him able to wake up at the scheduled time. He could only take them on the days he wasn't working at the bar, but on those nights he normally fell asleep right away due to exhaustion without the help or need of the pills.

Today though, with him not only taking the two pills at night like usual but also taking who knows how many at an unknown time in the morning, they lasted a bit longer than usual.

And by a bit- it means that not only did he sleep through his alarm once, but he slept through it the five times it went off. It was only when the sun shone through the blinds and fell on his face did he shoot awake. Just _knowing_ that he had overslept, Cas groaned and stumbled into the shower, waking fully when the icy water ran over him.

When he finally made it to the museum, the meeting, the one that Tyler had been constantly texting him about- the one he had made sure Cas knew he couldn't be late for- the one addressing the opening of the new exhibit- was over. Cas groaned- cursing the fact that the first time he was late had to be on _this day_ had to be this one.

Ducking his head and trying to avoid everyone on his way to the backroom, Cas ran in to Tyler.

"Hey man, where were you?"

Turning to face him, Cas scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a frustrated sigh. "I believe I overslept. I can promise it won't happen again."

"Ya I'm sure it's no problem. But man! You sure missed out! They had these miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches, they're delicious!"

Laughing slightly at Tyler' enthusiasm, Cas walked with him into the backroom, depositing his stuff along the way.

"But seriously, if you want me to show you around the new exhibit after you get off today. I mean- I _did_ hear the whole speech, I'm sure I could recite it well enough. We could just go visit it after work and I could fill you in. It's no bother, I promise."

Tyler laughed nervously at the end, looking slightly reddened before fidgeting slightly in his stance. Not quite knowing what was going on with him, Cas smiled at him and shook his head.

"It's ok. I appreciate the offer, but I can do it on my own. It's my fault for being late. Besides, today is my day to archive some of the documents, I'll be here long past closing."

"If you're sure man. It's no trouble- I could come back later and…"

"That won't be necessary Tyler, but thank you."

Flashing him one more smile, Cas hastily exited the room to just make it in time for the start of his first tour.

* * *

Once Cas brought his tour group back to the front, he headed back to the storage rooms, intent on finishing his work in time to get back to his apartment in time to make up for lost sleep. Even though he had slept longer then usual, he was exhausted, and more then ready to sleep it off.

Hours passed and Cas put the final tote of manuscripts in the vault. Yawning, he exited the room, surprised to find everyone gone and the rooms darkened save for the safety lights. Slightly taken aback, Cas looked at the time, only to be shocked to find that it was already 10 pm. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to go see the new exhibit, Cas headed down the familiar halls to arrive at the alcove. Previously, this exhibit had held an art instillation, but with the way all the guys were talking about it, he could presume it was not, in fact, another art exhibit.

Walking in and groping at the wall for the light switch, Cas flipped on the power and let his eyes fall closed as the lights powered up. He had been caught unawares at just how powerful the white lights were a couple times to many- and he didn't need his eyes to get burned twice in one day.

Only when his eyelids turned pink did he cautiously open them. Blinking a couple of times to adjust to the brightness, he turned around once he could see clearly. The first thing he took his was the bright yellow '1966 Lamborghini Miura'. The car was in supreme condition, it's paint glossy and fresh, looking like it hadn't been made more than a year ago. Next to it, according to its name plate, was a red 1969 Ferrari Dino 246 GT. The whole row of cars down this side of the wall were gorgeous, and looked to have been restored magnificently. Not quite letting himself consider why he felt, for lack of better words, at peace knowing that the cars had been treated with utmost care. Turning around to face the other line of cars, Cas stopped dead in his tracks.

Right in the middle, the center piece of the collection, the ugly joke to the whole party, was a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. He _knew_ it wasn't the same one, it wasn't possible. This one looked like it hadn't even been driven off the lot. He even briefly registered the plaque identifying this one as the 10th one in production- he knew it. It was _different_.

But just like many of the things Cas had learned about humanity in the almost 5 months he had been living it, logic didn't apply. The bone deep _horror_ at what he was looking at locked his knees and rendered him immobile. He mind was stuck on an infinite loop, screaming "no…no…no" over and over again. Frozen, unable to fight or resist, painfully memories of sitting in her passenger seat, feeling the leather underneath his fingers, listening to her distinctive rumble, hearing the rock roll from her speakers; talking debating _laughing_ within her four walls overcame him.

I can't stay here.

With a great deal of effort Cas yanked himself from the wall he found himself pressed against, getting the undeniable feeling of his heart being ripped out through his chest and left steaming on the floor. With vague sense of direction, Cas stumbled and lurched his way through the halls, unable to see as tears spilled over his eyes and poured down his cheeks. Hysterical, Cas found himself in main lobby. Cries of relief ripped themselves from his throat and he fled the doors, running out into the darkness with little thought to where he was going.

Hours later, Cas, through nothing but luck, found himself running into the lobby of his apartment and tearing up the stairs to arrive at his apartment. Fumbling with his keys, it took him multiple tries to stop his fingers from shaking long enough to insert the correct key into the lock and fall into his room.

Feeling nauseous, Cas fell to the ground in front of the door, curling up into a ball with his head between his knees.

"Not the same…not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same… not the same…"

* * *

Once the need to throw up had passed him enough to stand, Cas staggered to his feet and ran into his room to take the rest of the bottles worth of pills. Before he went to the bed to lay down, a fool's idea crossed through his fevered mind.

_I could do it…yes.. it would work!..it would have to. I know it will. Yes- yes this will work. I can make it work- I need it to._

The sigils and script needed flew to the forefront of his mind, and with shaky hands Cas found a piece of paper and a pen. Holding it up against the wall, Cas scribbled out the shape of sigil and brokenly filled in the lines of text. When he was done, he held the paper in front of his face and looked at it forlornly.

The idea was reckless borderline stupid, but he needed it. He couldn't be expected to live this life with the memories tormenting him every day. He had a life, he _liked_ his life, and he didn't need… couldn't _live_ with the smallest thing causing him to fall to his knees. He couldn't do with the constant reminders of his past, and if this was the only option to let it go- then he would.

Along with everything else.

* * *

**...Sorry?**

**~Magnolia**


	8. Final Thoughts

There is nothing left of me   
You can see it in my eyes  
Sing the anthem of the angels  
And say the last goodbye

Cold light above us  
Hope fills the heart  
And fades away  
Skin white as winter  
As the sky returns to grey

Days go on forever  
I was forced to leave your side  
We couldn't chase the dark together  
If you go-

* * *

When Cas woke up in the morning, it was not by choice. The piercing ring of his phone drove daggers into his skull. Groaning in pain, Cas rolled over in his bed and mashed his ear into the mattress, doing his best to drown out the sound. After years of the horrid noise, the ringing finally stopped. Cas almost wept with relief, and he might've, had it not been for the voice mail kicking in.

"Hey uh, Clarence. It's 9:30, and I was kind of wondering where you are. Boss-man said you didn't schedule a replacement for your tours and you aren't here? He all but blew a gasket but I covered for you. Said you just forgot to write it down. He's a little annoyed, but when isn't he mad at something or other am I right? So ya, it was no big; I only expect your soul and your everlasting gratitude. But man, just wondering where you were and if I should be expecting your ass anytime soon. I'm telling you, -"

Cas, who had been blindly reaching for the phone since the start, finally closed his fingers around the device and ripped at the battery. Flinging the pieces of the phone across the room, Cas collapsed back onto the bed and fell asleep.

* * *

When he woke up for keeps, his whole room was filled with light. Inversely reflecting his state, Cas stared up at the ceiling. Just the thought of getting out of bed and going about seemed exhausting and a waste of time. He didn't want to look at anyone, see anyone, or talk to anyone.

Feeling like he weighed a million tons, Cas sank back into the bed. He wanted to bury into the blankets forever, looking to the window, Cas only saw the dirty-white of the winter sky and the tops of the planters on his balcony. As he stared, he saw movements just over the green. Whatever it was wasn't going high enough for Cas to get a clear view of what it was. So he waited.

An unaccounted for amount of time later a small bee rose to the top of the planter. Lazily, it darted back and forth with no discernible pattern. Cas remembered a time when he used to be able to pick it out- see the order and plan that this bee had and the route it would follow.

Remembering the things he used to be able to made him wince. It also made him remember exactly why he was lying in bed at noon on a work day hiding from the world and him from the thoughts that he was trying to avoid.

When Cas rolled over, he saw a sheet of wadded up paper on the small table next to his bed. Never one to have left trash around before, he reached over and picked it up. Carefully, Cas unrolled the ball and spread cit out. When it was fully opened, he saw the harsh scrawl of his design from the night before.

He idly traced the design with his fingers, and wondered what it would be like if he were to do it. He would finally have a new life. He couldn't run for the past forever, and as he wasn't allowed to face it- he might as well just…get rid of it.

After rolling the idea around in his head, Cas eventually gently folded the sheet of paper and slid out of bed. The air around him was bitterly cold, but he barely felt it as he got dressed. He pulled out a pair of pants from the dresser and slipped on a simple button down. His boots were snug around his feet, and Cas made sure to tighten the laces evenly. After that, he placed the simple unassuming sheet of paper into his pocket- and walked out the door.

 

 

 

 


	9. No Going Back Now

Here's wishing for the bluest sky  
And hoping something better comes tomorrow.  
Hoping all the verses rhyme,  
And the very best of choruses to  
Follow all the doubt and sadness.  
I know that better things are on the way.

Here's hoping all the days ahead  
Wont be as bitter as the ones behind  
Be an optimist instead,  
And somehow happiness will find me.  
Forget what happened yesterday,  
I know that better things are on the way.

* * *

The bell above the dilapidated shop echoed through the tiny room. Letting out a heady column of smoke, the man behind the counter lazily looked raised his gaze to the door. Standing at the threshold was a man with thick purpling bruises under his eyes and disheveled hair. His light blue shirt was buttoned two to three buttons off, leaving one end hanging far below the other. He looked like he could have used a few more hours of sleep. Alex sighed, inwardly hoping he wasn't a stoner. He had a health inspection scheduled for five and he didn't need him to stink up the place and get him another citation.

The man took a few steps forward and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring around at the walls. Not bothering to say anything, Alex just took another long sip of the black sludge most commonly passed as coffee and felt it slide down his throat, barely look warm. He drank it to the dregs, then through Styrofoam cup into the small trashcan behind him. It landed wish a whoosh into the basket, and he didn't even take the usual moment to celebrate the victory before turning his gaze back to the disconcertingly quiet man in front of him. When a few more minutes past of him just staring at the wall in silence, Alex let out a small cough to signal his blatantly obvious presence.

When that instilled no reaction, Alex groaned, this man was stoned as _shit_.

"Hey man. Can I help you with something?"

Turning to face h is way, Mr. One-to-Many squinted at him and reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card. "I have money."

_Of course_

"Looking for a tat? What do you have in mind? Half sleeve? Full?"

Reaching into his pocket once more, the man pulled out a folded up piece of paper. Feeling a little better that the man had at least previously thought about getting this tattoo and wouldn't just wake up with it the next day, he watched as the man slowly unfolded the sheet and looked at it oddly for a few moments before hesitantly laying it on the table in front of him.

"Forearm, preferably."

When Alex rotated the page around to get a good look at the design, he blanched. It didn't just look like the man had been stoned, he must have been shit faced and hallucinating as well! The page was just scrawled through with angrily scribbled lines and rugged edges. None of the symbols had any symmetry to them and they were all over the place.

Mr. Crazy-One-to-Many stared back at him expectantly. Alex studied him, contemplating his options. On theory, he could copy these symbols as is and let the man walk away, that would teach him to smoke on health inspection days. But Alex, commonplace coldness aside, was cruel- but not _that_ cruel. Inwardly resigning himself to his fate, he took the paper in his hands and set it aside while scavenging around on his overflowing desk.

"Sure I can do that. Let me just make a few adjustments. Once you approve it I can move it to transfer paper and we can get started."

Nodding, he went over to sit on the small wooden chair in the corner, in which he promptly went back to staring at the works on the wall. Figuring the was at least lucky that he wasn't going to be causing trouble, Alex looked down at the white page in front of him, wondering how in the world he was going to make it work.

* * *

Twenty or so minutes later, Alex decided that the design was finished. Not only did it no longer look like drunken scribbling, but it actually looked fucking bad ass, if he did say so himself. Blowing off the last of the eraser shavings, he stood up from his chair and popped his back, groaning when it popped at pulled. Relaxing back into a slump with a sigh, Alex walked over to Mr. Fun-at-Parties and held out the paper.

"Check this out for size. What do you think?"

The man took the drawing from his outstretched hand and looked it over quizzically. After a few moments, without looking up, he addressed him.

"It seems quite a bit bigger than the original."

Right as Alex was about to open up his mouth to protest and defend the piece, the man continued.

"But I think it will do nicely. Yes, it's perfect."

Grinning widely, Alex snatched the paper back and went back over to his table, suddenly excited more than he had been in a while to complete the piece.

"Bet your ass it's perfect. Just wait a couple more minutes so I can move it over to transfer paper and we can get started."

The process went smoothly after that, and before long he had the man's skin prepped and was laying down the transfer paper. He nitpicked over the placement for several minutes that it would flow seamlessly with the muscles in his arm; and after getting it just right, he sat down to work.

The gun buzzed in his hand and the first line came out clean and strong, dark and sharp against the man's light skin. He was extremely relaxed throughout the whole process, not even widening his eyes or tightening his fingers with the stinging presses of the gun.

Time passed differently when he worked, and without the need to carry small talk or deal with the client moving, Alex quickly fell into the headspace he needed to seamlessly and efficiently create the tat, sinking in to the rhythm of his craft.

Later, after smoothing over the last of the lines, Alex let go of the man's hand.

"I'm done. What do you think?"

Looking at the man's face for the first time since the start of the tattooing, Alex was surprised to find the man looking pale and feverish.

_Guess he doesn't come off of drugs well._

He glanced down at his new tattoo, before quickly tilting his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

"It's wonderful. Thank you. Could you possibly finish up as soon as possible? I'm not feeling too well."

"Sure thing. Just give me a couple more minutes and then a couple more to finalize some paperwork and you're outta here."

Alex reached over and laid a sterile bandage over the skin, pleased with his work. Drunken/stoned mistake or not, at least the tat was cool as shit.

Once that was done, he looked back up at the man. Almost seeing his condition deteriorate before his eyes, Alex quickly went about gathering the paper and showing him hastily where to sign. Once that was done with almost blind compliance, the man handed over his card to pay.

Swiping and completing the transaction faster than he can remember ever doing it, Alex found himself glancing up at the man every few minutes, as if expecting to find him passed out on the floor. And that was one thing he _really_ couldn't deal with right now.

The receipt printed slowly, and each second that it inched out of the machine seemed like several too long. Eventually, it finished printing and he hurriedly tore it off and handed it to the man to the sign. After that was done, he gratefully stood up to lead him to the door.

"And you're done. Here are a couple of pamphlets of care that you're going to have to keep up with. And that's it. Any questions and you can just come back over here. I'd love to see how that tattoo turns out anyway."

Nodding in the way that only people who have no idea what's going on do, the man stumbled out of the building and half stumbled half ran down the block. Turning back to his shop, Alex let out a curse when he realized he now only had a little under an hour to clean and sterilize the whole shop before the health inspectors came. _Fuck!_

* * *

How Cas made it back to his apartment in one piece he didn't know. As soon as the marks on his arm were completed in ink, his whole body had started to feel like it was on fire. Strips of flames licked up his spine and into his skull, and it was all he could do to sit still on the bus home as he felt himself start to sweat profusely and sway in his seat.

Once he made it home, the first thing he did was fall into the bathroom and retch into the toilet. His chest heaved and burned, and he weakly rinsed out his mouth before pulling himself through the hallway and falling on top of his sheets. The spotted world around him flicked and rotated. And then, without further presentation, black poured over his vision, and took him with it.

He didn't wake up for a while. And when he did, three days had passed, and so had Cas.


	10. Start of Something New

Birds flying high  
You know how I feel  
Sun in the sky  
You know how I feel  
Breeze driftin' on by  
You know how I feel  
It's a new dawn  
It's a new day  
It's a new life  
For me  
And I'm feeling good

* * *

_Beep… Beep…. Beep…._

The incessant beeping was what did it. The machines and the squeaks of wheels that would occasionally roll past the room were one thing, as were the low murmurs. Those he could ignore- if he tried hard enough. But the shrill noise that was never ending- there's only so long he could ignore it and stay blissfully unaware of what was going on around him.

And it was because he was _tired_. Even _thinking_ was painful and draining. He felt as if he had been hit in the head with a crowbar. A thick dull ache was spreading through him, glowing red and angry towards the back of his skull. He tried his best to float off back into unconsciousness to avoid the pain, but each beep just pulled him back closer into awareness and more aware of the fire in his head. So really, waking up was just another level of hell.

Each ping of the machine that was _right next to his ear_ dragged him upwards. Slowly he began to feel his cramped muscles, the heaviness of each limb. His head _burned_.

Slowly, he no longer was resisting the urge to wake up, but pushing- fighting his way out of sleep as the pain in his head grew. He felt as if someone had just cracked open his skull and just ripped and tore at whatever it would find. The effort to raise his eyelids was a long-battle well fought, and only with exuberant amount of effort did he tear them open, hoping that someone would be there to give him _something_ to fight the pain.

Cas opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Instead of the wood paneling he expected to see, there was a stark white ceiling with a blinding over head light. Shying away from the light, Cas quickly scrunched his eyes closed to shut it out and rolled to the side slightly. After a few moments, he tried again, hesitantly. Slowly, Cas raised his eyes and adjusted to the unnatural whiteness around him to witness his surroundings.

Sitting in the chair across from him was a form, though with bleary eyes he was unable to tell who it was. Slowly the figure solidified and sharpened into a person- a girl. She had blond hair pulled back loosely into a pony-tail, with loose strands falling around her face. _Nora_ , his brain supplied.

He Worked his throat to try to tell Nora to get pain meds, when she looked at him and found him awake.

"Oh my gosh Clarence! Are you ok? Dr. Claredy! He's awake!"

Before he would ask her anything, she was out the door running. Several moments later, a team of nurses bustled into the room, pulling at tubes disappearing into his arm and reading and recording data from the monitors. When Nora came back, she sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand.

"Do NOT do that again! Do you know what it was like for me? I thought you were dead! Who else would be around to cover your shifts! No matter how hard I try I can't ever seem to get Bill to wipe down all the tables and machinery properly. You don't find people who take care of things like that that often. And not to mention how…"

Cas relaxed back into the bed slowly, smiling softly at Nora's soft voice and melodic tone. Eventually, after letting himself get carried away by her voice, the nurses returned and talked to him quickly for several minutes. After that exchange, he found out he was discharged and set to go back to his house with strict orders to drink a lot of liquids and thank heaven that "this lovely lady had gotten to you in time."

Later that night after returning to his apartment with Nora, he sat down in a chair opposite her and wrapped his hands around a water bottle.

"Nora, I was wondering if you could tell me… what happened?"

She looked at him then, with a sad look on her face. "Oh hon, what do you remember?"

"Last I can remember I was doing inventory at the museum and came home. I don't really remember much after that."

Nora looked at him carefully, and after searching his face for several minutes she haltingly started telling him what she knew.

"Well, I called you on Friday to see if you wanted to go furniture scavenging, and you didn't pick up. When you didn't show up for work on Saturday I got worried and tried calling you again. When you didn't answer, me and Bill, we went down to your apartment to see if you were alright. You didn't answer the bell- so I used the key to the house that I know you keep under the flower pot and, don't be mad, but went inside."

Nora stopped her story to look at him apologetically. It wasn't until he bade her continue that she went on.

"Well uh, a lot of things were on the floor in the hallway so we started to think there was a break in. Bill even picked up the fireplace poker and everything. When we went into your room and saw you lying on bed I tried to wake you up but you… wouldn't. I thought you were dead! Anyway uh, we took you to the hospital really quickly after that."

Not fully wanting the answer to his question, Cas quietly asked, "How long was I out."

"Till Sunday- three days. Maybe more." She whispered.

Not knowing what else to say, Cas dragged her into a hug and pressed his lips to her hair. Silently apologizing to her and reassuring her that he was here.

* * *

Cas was given paid leave until Wednesday, and he spent the time organizing his apartment. He set about making an organizational system, and went to the store several times to purchase boxes, shelving, and book cases. When he wasn't doing that, he was reclining in his chair with Ghost, doing his best to make it up to her for the neglectment. Throughout the day he would get several pounding headaches, some so severe as to cripple him for hours. He likened the pain to one someone would experience when given a transplant, he felt like his body was revolting against his brain.

He quickly set about finding remedies for his headaches, finally landing on one that claimed chamomile and ginger-root tea would sooth his head. Either it was the time passing or in fact the tea, slowly the headaches came only once a day, and then every few days, then once a week. When Cas took his first shower since the hospital and saw the tattoo on his arm, he smiled; remembering how he had gotten it when he was still in college after writing his master thesis on ancient hieroglyphics and mysticism.

Shortly after, Cas was back to working full time. He went out to Friday night poker with the guys like usual, although Tyler looked surprised when Cas agreed to go down with them. Chalking it up to him just being shocked that he would go down to a bar just a week after his hospital stint, Cas joined them at The Bunker, and although he didn't quite get why they yelled and shouted and the corner television whenever the _California Golden Bears_ ran with the ball, he did quite enjoy the air of comrade surrounding them all. Smiling, Cas turned back to the game and cheered just as hard as the rest of them when the guy in yellow made the final 'touchdown' and subsequently won the game.

He liked his life. It was a good one.

* * *

**So ya! Cas is memory wiped. BAM. :/  
**

**Major question: Seeing as though he doesn't know he's Cas anymore, would you prefer me to start calling him Clarence all the time? I'd prefer to stick with Cas unless someone was talking because I feel like that will make it easier to read, but it's your call.**

**Goodbye 2013! May 2014 be 5 trillion times better!**

**Also- #Kevinlives**

**~Magnolia**


	11. Parting Ways II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! As a present to you guys for making it thus far- get ready for *drum roll* Dean's return!

I want you to know  
That it doesn't matter  
Where we take this road  
But someone's gotta go  
And I want you to know  
You couldn't have loved me better  
But I want you to move on  
So I'm already gone

* * *

**Day 0: Train station**

The train was delayed- which was something he didn't know whether to be grateful for or not. Sitting next to Cas on the hard plastic bench was more painful than he had thought possible. Next to him, Cas was mute, not offering in a word to help the situation along. Nervously, Dean rambled on about what to expect. What to eat, what to avoid. How great different types of clothes are… he made predictions aloud as to whether or not Cas would be a tea or coffee person. He put his money on tea, openly hypothesizing that Cas was weird and would therefore like it; that his favorite would be some rag-tag blend only made in the mountains by a secluded village isolated from the rest of humanity.

Cas didn't offer any substance to the one-sided debate, however.

Fidgeting somewhat while trying to pull a conversation out of thin air, Dean took in Cas' profile. His back was rigidly straight, the only dip being in his shoulders where his head hung low. He never once looked back at him, his eyes fixed firmly to a spot on the ground off to his left. His face gave nothing away- as blank a slate as when they had first met.

Cas hadn't said much since the day previous. After Dean had left his room, they hadn't spoken. When he woke up- he had followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen; only to see Cas sitting awkwardly on the couch with all his things packed on the floor in front of him and a cup of coffee in hand. Working his throat roughly, Dean said, "I guess you're ready to go then?"

Cas had nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

Feeling guilty, Dean turned around and mumbles something about leaving after they stopped at the store and had picked out a couple more things for him to bring, but Cas stopped his softly.

"No need and no time. I took the liberty of checking the tickets on the trains out today. I booked one for the 9 o'clock. We only have half an hour if you want me to make it."

Dean had to stop himself from asking him to book the next one out, or maybe the one after that, or the one after that… but instead he just turned around and forced out something about there at least being time for him to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Now, the drink grew cold in his hands, hardly touched. Just as he was about to fumble for something else to talk about, Cas- turning his head slightly, spoke.

"It's curious."

Not daring to interrupt him, Dean settled to just looking at him; doing his best to catalog every sound and movement he made, less he forget to soon.

"This will be the first time I've been able to say goodbye."

Freezing, Dean did his best to keep his expression smooth- not wanting to give anything away. He stopped breathing, waiting with a trepidation for the following words.

"In all the time we've known each other, every time we separated it had either been out of control or we've parted on… well, unfriendly terms. This time we're actually able to say goodbye."

He lost some of his iron control at Cas' words. He felt some of the pain, loss, and regret spill into his eyes and planes of his face. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Dean fumbled for something to say. He _needed_ Cas to understand. Know that this wasn't goodbye. That it wasn't his fault. He felt sick to his stomach, kicking out his only friend in his most vulnerable and defeated moment. He felt like laughing- deep dark and humorlessly. He wanted to punch a wall, to punch himself. To do _something_. He wanted to reach across the tense wall between him and Cas and just hug him and promise that he wasn't going to leave him. That for once, he would be the one watching over. That he would be the one protecting.

"Cas that's not. This isn't goodbye. This is just a pit stop, ya? Once we sort out this whole rogue reaper/angel mess we can all meet up and chug Viagra and braid hair. We can still keep in contact- my numbers programmed into your phone."

The words were inadequate. They didn't get out anything he wanted to say. Half of it he knew Cas wouldn't even understand.

Cas nodded in understanding, though Dean knew he didn't. Something in his chest twisted harshly, knowing that Cas thought this was his fault. What made it hurt even worse was that he knew he couldn't say anything to let him know otherwise. He was stuck. And it hurt.

Not knowing what else to say, Dean jerkily nodded as well, a pained smile on his face. "Good."

When the bus came, Cas stood up resolutely, shouldering his bag. Dean got up to follow him, and together they walked to the bus.

"This isn't goodbye." Dean told him.

_You're sure doing a good job of making it look like one_

"I'll see you later."

_I have to_

Dean tightened his jaw and looked Cas in the eye, daring him to think different, trying to force him to understand.

With a tired half-smile, Cas took a deep breath. "I'll look forward to it."

Without giving either of them a chance to say anything else, Cas turned around and boarded the bus. Dean could see his figure through the windows, working his way towards the back.

"You boarding to, son?"

Looking back to the front, Dean saw the middle age man looking at him, holding the lever to close the door.

"Oh, no man. I uh- I can't."

"Humph. Seems like you're letting a good one go. Well, if you change your mind and decide to join your boyfriend, another bus pulls in in around an hour. Seems like you have a choice to make."

Before Dean could even be bothered to let him know that Cas was _not_ his boyfriend, the door closed in front of him. Backing up, Dean watched as the train pulled out into the street. He tried to catch a glimpse at Cas, to see him one last time. He looked through the passing windows to finally see a shot of dark hair firmly facing the opposite window. Away from Dean.

He was going to make this right- no matter how long it took.

Because Cas was worth it.

* * *

**Ok so maybe I cheated with saying Dean is back...  
**

**So get ready for time stamps people!**

**Super important question that I NEED you guys to answer: What are some key dates that you guys want me to write from Dean's perspective?**

**~Magnolia**


	12. Strategy at It's Finest

Oh brother I can't, I can't get through  
I've been trying hard to reach you, cause I don't know what to do  
Oh brother I can't believe it's true  
I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you  
Oh I wanna talk to you

Are you lost or incomplete?  
Do you feel like a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?  
Tell me how do you feel?  
Well I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak  
And they're talking it to me

* * *

**Day 3) Sam: Ready Subj. Dean: Pending  
**

Sam had lasted all of two days before he decided he had enough. Not only had he gotten a red-faced muttered reply to his simple inquiry as to, "Dean. Where is Cas?"but he had to put up with a whiny, grumpy, stubborn dick of a brother. He had come back to the bunker after disappearing before he had even woken up at around 11 nursing a bottle of jack that looked to be already halfway empty. Sam hoped most of that was due to being spilled all over himself or the floor; but this being Dean in question he knew he had downed it all himself.

Knowing he was walking on thin ice when Dean got like this, Sam cautiously phrased his question in his head. There was a science to it, to be sure. It couldn't sound too interested or pointed- as he was more likely to tell him to fuck off or back off and call it none of his business; but at the same time it couldn't sound too casual or flippant as he would just say that it's, "Nothing Sammy," and go to his room to sulk. Neither could he sound like he cared as the only thing that would get him was another girl/slumber party jibe and a closed door. To add to this, he only had one shot at asking the question because if he tried again he would be shut down again for being either a) too pushy b) too nosy c) too obnoxious or d) all of the above. No, there was no easy way to talk to Dean Winchester, and even after many high-exposer years he still hadn't mastered the delicate art.

Dean would argue that he didn't even have a bit of finesse.

Judging by how well he'd done in the past, he'd grudgingly agree

Deciding his best bet today was to go for a light tone + serious answer approach; Sam looked up from his laptop screen and looked at the man stumbling ever so slightly down the stairs.

_Great._

"Dean, where were you man, it's almost noon."

Jack in hand, Dean made his way over to the kitchen, studiously ignoring Sam's question.

_Attack somewhat effective, No response- but Subj. Dean has paused in the kitchen."_

He reached out for the cold plate of leftover eggs and bacon. The eggs Sam had tried to make were overcooked and spongy; and he was pretty sure he was supposed to put salt or cheese or something on them when he made them and the bacon was black or still flabby, no in-between. It hadn't been his fault, Dean had always been in charge of the cooking- they wouldn't have turned out that way if _Dean_ has been around to make them…

Sam said as such to Dean- who barked out a laugh and took a huge bite of the eggs. Even drunk, the food appeared to be so bad that even Dean couldn't stomach it. He squinted his eyes and forced the wad of spongy paste down his throat, coughing ever so slightly when it finally settled in his stomach.

"Samantha you are forever banned from the kitchen. Your presence in here alone is likely to ruin everything. Stay away and don't come back. How I'm ever going to marry you off I have no idea."

_Food Super Effective: Subj. Deans' mood has been lifted by 10%_

_.._

_.. .._

_.. .._

_.._

_Counter attack! Subj. Dean used_ _Avoid_ _. Derailed conversation by 45%_

Sighing, Sam tried again, knowing that he might have missed his only opportunity. "Dean, you were out for a while, you could have at least offered to pick up some of the stuff we need for the next couple of weeks."

"Ya well", Dean answered gruffly, "If sleeping beauty had decided to get her delicate ass out of bed…"

"Dude! … Disney?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when he was already biting back a groan, trying to steal the words back into his mouth. _Again_ he fell into their normal routine- avoid until escape was in sight and then get the hell out of dodge. Sam had forgotten how well Dean was at this game.

_Subj. Dean power level 90% User. Sam power level critical 45%_

Scrounging for something to salvage the conversation, Sam made a last ditch effort to get Dean to talk.

"Come on dude. What skeevy business could you be doing this early in the morning?"

_A+ Sam. Joke. He can't avoid answering now_

Dean squared his shoulders and set his jaw before shoveling the rest of the disgusting eggs into his mouth, quickly making his way through the rest of the plate.

_Danger Warning Critical! Subj. Dean used: Closed Off. Chance for Mission Success: 17%_

Deflating, Sam decided to let it go- knowing it was a lost cause. Either Dean would tell him in 10 years when it escalated, when he was hammered, or when he was asleep. He decided to change the topic, knowing that keeping Dean from going into some corner of the bunker in his current state with any amount of alcohol in his possession was not going to end in the rest of the day or the next few being even slightly bearable. Lucky for him- a perfectly good topic transition-er was not only here- but lying blissfully asleep upstairs.

_Perfect_

"Heh. Wanna go check on Cas, man? I knew he found the beds comfortable judging by the way he wouldn't stop going on about them yesterday, but I think it's time we drag him out of bed. There's a lot we need to talk about. Though if he's still asleep you might want to let him just stay in bed, judging by what must have been a really awful couple of weeks for him. The man has earned a couple hours of shut eye."

Apparently that was not the right thing to say. An inscrutable expression tore over Dean's features, and in-between one blink and the next he was storming passed him, all hard lines and oozing _DO NOT TALK TO ME._

_Subj. Dean left the arena. Mission Failed._

Breathing out heavily, Sam leaned back in his chair; wincing slightly when he heard the door slam down the hall. Sam new perusing it was pointless- and that was one of the most aggravating things he could think of. He thought they were finally past this; the secret keeping. Whenever things went bad it was almost always, without fail, due to poor communication. You would think they would realize this and adapt; but instead they recognize this fact and continue as always. It didn't make any sense, and Sam was just tired of all the closed doors.

Maybe he would get it out of Dean tomorrow.

Sam went into the kitchen and pulled out a beer.

Why not? It was probably 5 o'clock somewhere.

* * *

**So how you guys feel about a little Sam? :D**

**~Magnolia**


	13. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I apologize for the format of the first part of this chapter. I finally read a good stream of crack fics which were surprisingly amazing and I fear that I might have adopted a bit of the writing style… oops? I also may have said this was the last time stamp? Well… I may or may not have been lying (to myself as well, calm down) because I seem to have this thing about expanding on every possible fraction of a story line and well…. Things that are meant to be one paragraph or not included at all become… whole chapters.SO YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT THE OTHER CHAPTERS AGAIN BECAUSE I'M GETTING ART PUT IN FOR THOSE AS WELL

I dance around this empty house  
Tear us down, throw you out  
Screaming down the halls  
Spinning all around and now we fall

Echoes knocking on locked doors  
All the laughter from before  
I'd rather live out on the street  
Than in this haunted memory

* * *

 

****Day 3: Breaking Point** **

Sam was out. Finished. Done. Game over, return to start. He did not pass go, did not collect 100 dollars. However you wanted to see it, that was him. There was nowhere he could be where he was safe from Dean and his… mood swings. He started off by locking himself in some corner of the bunker- presumably the garage to only show his face when he was probably close to passing out due to lack of food: i.e. every 3-4 hours. As soon as he ate it with a constipated look on his face he would storm back into the garage or some other unfortunate room and repeat said process.

That went on for about a day and a half- with Sam quietly resigning himself to keep out of his path. (He had learned the hard way that being in the same room wasn't the most brilliant ideas, as he had accidently walked into the kitchen when thinking that Dean was gone only to come face to face with the man; the look of murder and 'brush off' that rolled off of his features normally wouldn't be enough to faze him, not anymore, but with the slight twitch in his brow and frankly mad look about him, Sam decided that the best thing for both of their mental states was to stay away.) Which was why he found himself in the library- the one place he was practically guaranteed Dean wouldn't enter.

Of course that idea went up in smoke the second dean barged through the door. Sam was ready to make a stealthy exit and get the hell out of the detonation zone when Dean didn't say anything. Didn't even look at him. Instead, he just started randomly picking up books and flipping through them. At seemingly random intervals, he would pause at a certain page and read it for half a second before he continued to flip through the book. Whenever he was done with one, he would huff and quickly shove it back on the shelf (accept the small victories. Sam had been bitching to Dean about putting the books back for the better half of their stay here). After watching him for a total of a lifetime, Sam made his exit, choosing to finish his book in the living room.

His dreams of peace were quickly shattered when not twenty minutes later Dean wandered out of the library and into the kitchen, where he wordlessly (though certainly not silently) sat across from him and started spinning change on the table before getting bored and switching to an empty beer bottle.

For a bit longer, wherever Sam would find himself, Dean would find himself in the same room almost on schedule. Dean went from repeatedly dismantling and reassembling his guns to tapping out the most obnoxious beat he could think of onto almost any surface in his vicinity. At one point Sam was about to promise Dean to let him cut his hair if it meant afterwards he would be left in peace, but alas he was smart enough to realize that would never work. Instead, he pointedly looked at Dean and said the first actual word in hours, "Dean, isn't there some work you've been meaning to do on the impala? Something about a noise with her engine?"

Dean didn't even have to look at him when he muttered, "I don't have to do that right now. Relax."

Sam was just about to turn red in the face and start spluttering indignantly when he though better about it and schooled his expression.

"Dean I  _really_  think you should work on the impala right now. Who knows when our next break will be? You can't rely on things to stay this way for too long."

Sam was about ready to throw Dean outside and put the place on lockdown if he didn't make the wise decision to move really soon- but luckily for both of them Dean chose that moment to be cooperative and leave the room, not before muttering something about 'overworking asshole' and 'I need a beer'.

Sam was saved for a precious 3 hours.

He was sitting on the reclining chair when Dean emerged, looking like he had even showered. When he got right to quickly throwing a sandwich together and sitting down to eat it without so much as a shoulder twitch did Sam start to hope that Dean had finally get over whatever weirdness had possessed him. Maybe he could even stop watching his back.

He was not that lucky, it seemed. Dean had started practically  _vibrating_. He was tapping out a chaotic beat with his leg and finges. He didn't even look like he noticed it. When that slowly transitioned into pacing, Sam had finally had enough.,

Sam stood up and flung the chair back, feeling choked on the lack of air and an overwhelming feeling of…claustrophobia? When his chair fell back and hit the floor, Dean stopped moving and looked at him bewildered.

"Dude. What's your problem?"

_How much dignity would he be at risk of losing if he started laughing/crying hysterically?_

Sam moved through the room, quickly grabbing his jacket and keys.

"Nothing man. Just…realized we're out of a few things. Like… a lot of things. I might as well go on a supply run."

"Like what?" Dean questioned, confused. "I just stalked up last week!"

Scrambling for an answer Sam quickly said, "Uh… yessss.. but you forgot to get anything I can actually consume. 50 cent microwave sausages might be good enough for you, but I happen to have standards, and can't live off of that mockery."

Not even an ounce of guilt appeared on Dean's face, which, besides the excuse being just that, annoyed Sam to no end. When Dean seemed to have no response whatsoever in mind, Sam turned and practically ran to the door- his escape in sight.

"DON'T FORGET TO GRAB ME SOME PIE!"

* * *

**Also- I'm just gonna take back saying their was only gonna be one more time stamp. Knowing me their will be 50... (I really hope not. I miss writing Cas)**

**Let me know what you guys wanna see!**

**~Magnolia**


	14. Off Key Off Script

I'm sorry I don't understand  
Where all of this is coming from  
I thought that we were fine  
(Oh, we had everything)  
Your head is running wild again  
My dear we still have everythin'  
And it's all in your mind  
(Yeah, but this is happenin')

* * *

**Day 3: Off-kilter**

Dean was itchy. Not physically, of course, but metaphorically. He felt like he was hotwired- or like he needed to get his fix. Badly. No matter what he did- it wasn't…right. Annoyed, Dean took to pacing the bunker. Going back and forth between the rooms, aimlessly flipping through random books, looking around the garage. Wherever he went, it was wrong.

When Sam finally acknowledged his presence, Dean relaxed marginally- hoping that whatever conversation they were going to have would be better than nothing.

Of course- that was until Sam, the fucking traitor, thought it would be a perfect opportunity to skip out. Abandon ship. Hasta la vista, baby. Who knows how long the nerd was going to be gone? He would probably get caught up jerking off to the salad platters or something…

* * *

~1 hour later~

Beer bottles littered the floor, trailing across the room like a beacon to a one Dean Winchester; who was grouchily spinning the bottle violently on the table, next to where his phone lay open. He must have opened it and gone to dial the familiar number over a hundred times, but in every case he slammed it down angrily and took another swig from the bottle. Frustrated that hunter's helper wasn't even enough to get his muscles to relax and his brain to slow down, Dean  _humphed_  and spun the bottle viscously once more. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again…

Flipping open his phone once more, Dean regarded the screen, running his fingers over the hard plastic keys. That was one of the downsides of getting a new phone every few weeks; the keys never really had time to wear in. Whenever he had occasion to text anyone, it was always with clumsy fingers and stiff keys, often causing misspelled and misshapen messages to be sent off. He used to bother going back and correcting the message, now he didn't bother- knowing whoever he was texting was familiar enough with him to be able to decipher anything. And if they didn't? Well- they could always call.

(Bobby always did- well, had)

Finally- Dean locked his shoulders and held down the 3rd key- speed dialing the only other person he really needed to besides Sammy. Getting Cas the new phone had felt like hammering the final nail into a coffin. It punched it into his just how real their situation was. No longer could Cas hear him on the opposite side of the world. No longer could Dean just make fairly asinine gestures and sentences and Cas would just appear with a disapproving and/or judgmental expression just that little bit to close. No- he was utterly reliant on a cell phone. A stupid plastic device that half the time was either out of minutes or without connection. His ability to get in contact with anyone… was linked to one crappy little box. If Dean wasn't already on the wrong side of sober, remembering how vulnerable Cas now was would have definitely been enough for him to want to get there.

When the number went directly to voicemail, Dean was a bit confused, but didn't question it. Who knew how time zones worked? As far as he knew, it was 3 in the morning out in the middle of the ocean. Electing to just send out a quick text, Dean sent a simple, "Heya Cas"- not wanting to overcomplicate things or psych himself out. After sending it out, Dean hastily dropped the phone on the table and went into the next room, deciding last minute to grab one of Sammy's waters instead of his usual and drained the bottle before grabbing another one and heading back into the living room.

Dean went back to the library, flipping through several of the volumes before inexplicably ending up back in the dining room to check his phone. After ten minutes had passed and still no reply, Dean got bored of waiting and sent out another text, secretly hoping that Cas' phone was one full volume. Fuck conventionalism- If Cas had been serious about wanting to be a hunter- he needed to get used to three AM summoning.

Idley, Dean messaged Sam.

**Dean: Wht u thnk te tmezne rnmd grths is?**

Within the minute, Dean's phone buzzed on the table.

_See, Cas? That's the type of speed I'm expecting._

**Sam: 2 hours off. Don't bug him. He's busy**

_Ass_

Furrowing his brow in annoyance at Cas' now blatant lack of an excuse for not answering, Dean called the number one more- this time letting it ring all the way through as to leave him a message over the injustice- prepared to not skimp out on the details.

_"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again."_

_Wtf?_

Dean lifted the phone from his ear and quickly pressed random keys, squinting at the screen when it lit up again. He quickly scanned the number, trying to see where he imputed it in wrong. Frowning in confusion, Dean ended the call and tried again. He  _knew_  that was the number for Cas' phone. He had gotten it himself.

Not letting himself get deterred that easy, Dean called Garth instead- knowing that Cas should have reached there by now. He chould have gotten there yesterday at 5:35 pm, to be exact. The little guy should have already picked out a room and everything.

Deciding that Cas had no answers, Dean flipped through his contacts and pulled up Garth, intent on getting to the bottom of this. If Cas was going to be a little bitch- then so be it.

What if he'd in trouble? / What? No. This is Cas / Ya- newly minted human Cas. Fresh out the oven Cas. Still-in-the-box-never-been-played-with-Cas. / Well that's not true. What was that girls name? Annie? April? / Shuttup. That's not the point. What if they got attacked by Demons or something? / He has his angel blade…. / Yes, but- / Ha- he used that for protection against Ava too, didn't he. / … /

Dean's inner monologue was cut short when the call went through, his ears immediately accosted with Garth's enthusiasm.

"Hey Dean ya big idjit! What brings you to call? The news has already been delivered, amigo."

Stomach churning with the sense that he was just  _missing_  something, Dean breathed out slowly and tried his best to gather his senses.

"Woah Garth buddy slow down. What news?"

"I mean. It's no big deal. I told him as such. But I would have appreciated you guys figuring out everything  _before_  you called me. I mean- I had even started on cleaning up a second room! Do you know how long that took? I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to do- I mean- I've never had a dorm buddy- so I just kinda…."

"Garth. Stop. Talk to me. What are you saying?" Dean demanded.

"That I would have just preferred you guys sorting out your differences BEFORE you called me!"

"What?!"

"…That you wouldn't have had me prepare for Castiel's stay if you guys had just decided to let him stay with you before calling me?"

_Son of a bitch._

"He's not with you?!"

"Uh…. No?"

Dean slammed the phone shut, immediately red alarms flared through his senses. Cas was in trouble. The stupid kid had got himself kidnapped or some shit. He was probably off dyeing in some corner...Alone..

Panicking, Dean clenched his fists hard, feeling the plastic of his phone snap and warp beneath his fingers. When he saw what he was doing to the cheap device, he senselessly flung it across the room, not even noticing when it slammed into the wall and shattered into a million pieces.

Roiling, Dean looked around feverently. Trying in vain to think of a way to get to Cas.

_Charlie_

Dean strode over to a desk of drawers and yanked open the top one. Dean snagged one of the many phones in the drawer and rifled through the contacts again only to stop at Charlie's number. He silently begged to whoever was in control of phone signals that the call would go through to wherever Chalie had managed to find herself.

"Hey Han Solo."

"Charlie! I need your help!"

"What, did Rapunzel loose her glass slipper?"

"Cinderella smartass."

Dean heard her smirk through the phone.

"What's got you-"

"Charlie not now. I need your help."

"What did you do?"

"It's Cas. He's in trouble."

 

 

* * *

**Side note: does it bother any of you guys when people say _(Person A)_ called _(Person B)_ with the 1 speed dial key? Because back in my day, 1 was/is always reserved for voicmail….**

**Anyway; hope you liked it!**

**~Magnolia**


	15. Say Something I'm Giving Up On You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! POWER WRITE COMPLETE!

I need someone to show me the things in life that I can't find  
I can't see the things that make true happiness, I must be blind  
  
Make a joke and I will sigh and you will laugh and I will cry  
Happiness I cannot feel and love to me is so unreal  
  
And so as you hear these words telling you now of my state  
I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could but it's too late

* * *

 

**Day 3 Part II: Gone in the Wind**

Dean tore down the highway, music blasting at a deafening volume. The steering wheel was hard under his hands, his knuckles turning white and tendons popping with the strenuous grip he enforced. He single mindedly headed for the Kentucky Bus Station, knowing it to be the best place to start when looking for Cas. Either he had made it off the bus or he hadn't (He  _did_ ) - but this was the only place he was guaranteed a start.

7 hours later, Dean pulled into the lot. Bleary eyed and stiff, Dean all but ran into the station, cursing and turning back to get his suit, tie, and badge to pass as whatever official he needed to. Within moments he was in front of the information desk, impatiently waiting for the woman on duty to slowly look up at him and flash a fake-ass smile while calmly chewing her wad of gum.

"Hello Sir. What can I help you with today? The green train left ten minutes ago, so if you were hoping for a ticket I'm afraid I won't be able to help you. However, we do have a red train coming in 20 minutes that you can use to then schedule a connection at the Fort Vienx Station. It would add about one hour to your travel time, but as another green shouldn't be in for another three hours, your options are fairly lim-"

"Actually miss", Dean interrupted, flashing his badge, "I'm Officer Shawnings with the Department of Justice. I'm here on account of a missing person. Has a man passed through, about yea high/ He's got um.. he's, he's got dark hair, blue eyes… sorta quite but the I-Might-Just-Burrow-Into-Your-Soul type of demeanor? He would have passed through about three days ago?"

For a minute the girl just stared at him silently for a few moments, looking hard to his left in a picture of concentration, before her mouth popped open into a silent 'oh'.

"Oh! A Flustered Mr. Blue Eyes passed through here around that time! My friend Sheryl told me about the unnerving… er…. Interesting man she saw that day! Wearing a hoodie and jeans? Looking second hand? Here- Sheryl! Ya! Come over here! It's important!"

Trying not to get his hopes up, Dean watched as a perky attendant bounded over. When she stopped in front of him, she gave him a once over, glancing at his suit and badge none to subtly before standing slightly in front of her friend, as if on guard.

"Hey, whatever you think Syd did- it's not true. She's innocent. I swear. She goes to church every Sunday and everything. Between the two of us I don't think she's ever been within 10 feet of anything over .5% alcohol. So whatever you think she did- you got the wrong person."

Trying to breathe calmly, Dean looked at the girl and forced a deliberate smile- trying to get her to slow down.

"Actually no, your friend, ah, Syd, is fine. I'm looking for a missing person. Your friend said you saw a man that fits our description the other day. Does he happen to look anything like this?"

Dean pulled out a folded up photo of Cas, the one he had taken to make him his first set of fake ID's. He had found it crumpled up in the trunk of the Impala, forgotten in the corner. He pretended not to think too much of it when he slid it in to his wallet. It just meant that it was…easily accessible.

Sheryl, with wide dewy eyes, looked at the photo. Quickly, recognition dawned on her feature and she looked up, excited.

"Oh! I remember that guy! Came up to me and demanded to ask where one of the trains was headed. I told him and he just marched right on over to the ticket booth! So weird… but ya. That was definitely him. I think Rob was on duty at the ticket booth then. I remember because he asked me on a date again. Uh. Here- lemme get him."

Within minutes Dean was told that Cas, for whatever reason, had exchanged his ticket and headed off to Dallas. Worried that something really bad must have happened for Cas to bail without warning, Dean found himself behind the wheel again heading down south. Not one hour into his journey, Dean's phone flashed, alerting him to a call.

"Charlie."

"Heyo Dean! Ok- I found his phone. The last signal made came from-"

"Let me guess. Dallas?" Dean deadpanned.

"Uh, ya! How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Suddenly worried for her friend, Charlie spoke again with caution. "Say Dee. Before you do something stupid, like- I don't know, head down to Tehas without any plan, I think you need to think about how likely it is that he's even still there. I mean, if he's in trouble like you said-"

"Thanks Charlie. I can take it from here."

Dean felt a bit bad about hanging up on Charlie, but the overwhelming need for no distractions had built and built until he just couldn't handle it any more. It was why he had ignored the last 5 calls and 15 messages from Sam (Each call spaced out by an hour, and each text by 15. Sam was very punctual). He just couldn't handle any nay-sayers right now. He could always go back and apologize later.

After being on the road for 7 more hours, Dean was forced to pull into a dive motel. He had almost fallen asleep at the wheel 3 times, only being saved by luck, an angry driver, and the road bumps that separate the lanes. Grudgingly deciding that he would have a higher chance of making it to Texas if he didn't in fact die again, Dean collapsed onto a thin collapsed mattress and fell asleep immediately, too tired to dream.

* * *

Dean looked all over the city, with no sign of Cas. Upon arriving, he had questioned every worker at the station, perhaps getting a little to physical with one of the guards .who was a bit resistant to questioning and had responded just a bit too slowly. Two of the workers had seen a man matching their description leave the place two or so days ago, but that was about all they had to offer. Not even a direction to go on.

After searching aimlessly for hours, Dean stopped at a motel, drained, hapless, and hopeless. He called Sam.

* * *

Sam had given up on trying to figure out where in the hell Dean had gone hours ago. If he wanted to be a grumpy ass then he was going to let him. Maybe he would come back fresh from visiting the Grand Canyon and be back to his usual abrasive self. If a week passed by and the princess still wasn't back, then well- Sam would just have to send out an alert on the underground until someone somewhere found him and would make him haul his ass back north.

When his phone rang, Sam almost didn't answer it- for all he knew it could be Becky. It was just from utter boredom that he reached over and answered it, not even bothering to look at the name.

"Sam. I-"

Recognizing it to be Dean, Sam threw all caution to the wind and let the twinge of annoyance bleed out.

"WTF DUDE! I walk out for two hours and you just disappear? Where are you man! One would think you'd at least leave a sticky note. A little 'Goin out. Don't wait up' would have been nice. Or a you know, 'Hey Sam I'm just going to take off for a bit who knows when I'll be back lmfao have fun getting places xxoo'. It would have been appreciated!"

Sam paused in his rant, giving Dean the curtesy to respond. Instead of firing back insult and showing up at the from door, Sam heard an exaggerated silence, the only marker that he was even still connected was the sound of irregular breathing on the other end of the line.

"It's Cas. He's uh. He's gone."

* * *

Dean followed half assed leads all around the south and west coast for two months. Sam kept offering, at one point demanding, to come with- but Dean refused. This was his problem, not something that anyone but himself had to fix. Following trails that were all but non-existed, Dean slowly became more and more panicked. Whatever was happening, it was obvious that something was after Castiel, something bad.

Every night Dean would wake up abruptly to the sight of Cas lying dead in an alleyway somewhere, bleeding out from an angel blade wound. He knew that there was no way the big guns were going to leave him alone just because he was human, and images of his lifeless form haunted him.

There was nothing worse than the ones where he wasn't dead, however. The ones where he wished he was.

Eventually, after driving passed state lines for the hundredth time, the leads finally stopped. Whatever trail had been left was gone. Cas was all but wiped clean from the earth- no evidence to say otherwise.

Even Charlie, with all her advanced equipment, couldn't find him. Said he would have had to have been one hell of an expert to have been able to stay hidden for so long. And Dean wanted,  _needed_  to believe that Cas was just that good. That he was holed up in some fancy-pants apartment safe from everything. He just couldn't do it.

He was never so lucky.

* * *

**SO THERE WE GO! FINALLY WE ARE BACK ON TRACK. HALLELUYAH. PRAISE JESUS.**

**See you guys soon!**

**~Magnolia**


	16. The Impossible Should Have Stopped Shocking Him A Long Time Ago

 And I know it's long gone,  
And that magic's not here no more,  
And I might be okay,  
But I'm not fine at all.

'Cause there we are again on that little town street.  
You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over me.  
Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well.

And I know it's long gone  
And there was nothing else I could do  
And I (can't) forget about you long enough  
To forget why I needed to...

* * *

 

****

**Day 620: No Time Like The Present**

The tall glass of amber liquid was pushed across the counter, frosty condensation creeping up from the bottom of the glass and forming into small beads of cold heaven before running down the glass and mixing with the immaculate counter top.

Dean reached for it gratefully, shooting the bartender an easy smile. Looking at his deliverer, Dean's smile faltered. Looking across from him with a kind smile, sparkling blue eyes, and a shaggy mop of dark brown hair was the one person- the one thing that should have been impossible. Is impossible.

He felt like he had been sucker punched hard, hard, in the stomach. Dean pushed back on the stool wildly, needing air. Going with the momentum, the legs of the stool caught on to a hitch in the floor, and toppled over backward, bringing Dean with it.

Flailing his arms, Dean swung and hit the drink, bringing it down on top of him and smashing it into the floor, directly before his right arm found purchase on the ground- sending cutting shards of glass sharply into his palm.

Feeling strangled, Dean stared stupidly up into the face of the one person he had given up all hope of seeing again.

The word clung to his throat, to scared to be voiced after so long of being uttered and screamed with no results. It took all of his remaining energy to force himself to say the syllable, to hear it in his own ears and him not be faced with an empty room, empty street, empty town. When he finally said it, it didn't sound garbled or jumbled, even to his own ears it came out broken, gruff, and honest.

"…Cas?"

 

 

***17 hours earlier***

The roar of the impala was the only sound the two brothers heard on the darkened highway, and it was the only sound they heard until they finally pulled into the small town of Oakley. Normally, music would be blaring from the overused speakers, but they hadn't been turned on in months, or if they were a song or to would play before Dean would reach over and unceremoniously rip the offending cassette out of the player and throw it in the back. While Sam appreciated this development when it came to wanting to get some shut eye, the eerie quite that stretched on for hours was not synonymous. The torture was worse. Incommensurably worse.

Sam was more than relieved when they pulled into the town. They hadn't been hunting together for long, It had been over a year, closer to two, actually, since Dean had run out on him, and he had only starting to meet up with him for short periods of time about three months ago before disappearing again. He was really going to have to get a better phone that could do more then make calls and receive texts, because he wasn't so sure about how long he could survive many more car rides from hell.

When they pulled into a motel, Sam was more than happy to run in and brush his teeth, disgusted with how mossy and stale they had gotten during the duration of the drive. Once he splashed his face with lukewarm water, Sam felt marginally better, perking up for the first time since they agreed to take on this hunt.

It felt good to go hunting again. After dealing with the apocalypse and everything afterwards, it almost felt relaxing to take on a small fry case like this again. As much as he loved being in the men of letters and rebuilding, cataloging, and exploring every aspect of it, he could admit, at least to himself, how happy it made him to deal with something in person again instead of just assigning it out to other groups.

He had found this case while meeting up with Dean in one of Burbank California's local diners for their mandatory (Sam's orders) monthly meet ups. Of course, it was always Sam who had to tramp half way across the country, each location still managing to surprise him, too meet up with Dean. The injustice of it would have bothered him more if he hadn't pushed Dean a little too hard until Dean had forced out through gritted teeth, "I can't go back right not Sam! I just… I can't. Ok? I don't… don't deserve to go back there when he can't either."

Sam didn't bring it up again.

Instead, Sam had found himself at the diner at nine in the morning reading the newspaper which had been left on the table. After skimming through it, his attention was piqued when he came across one of the smaller articles, containing strange enough material to be a case. One that, through some strange miracle, he had managed to get Dean to take. Together.

Some couple had moved into Bay Point a newly-wed couple of weeks ago, only to be found dead in the house days later. It would have been left at that had Sam not noticed the script underneath, _"The Underwoods are not the first couple to be struck by tragedy in this town. Over the past 5 years, 21 people have reported in strange occurrences, and 6 have been admitted into the hospital for serious injury."_

From there, the two found themselves driving across California together for the first time in forever, sitting awkwardly pressed against the door until they arrived.

After Sam tossed water in his face, they went out to the library, digging through the old newspapers and trying to gather whatever news they could on the town. At around one, Dean pushed off from the table and muttered something about going to interview some of the townspeople before stretching and walking away.

Sam would've tripped him and offhandedly say something about how he was always ditching on the research had he not been so entrenched in an article.

It wasn't until the light in the library had gotten substantially darker did Dean sink into the chair next to him. Nothing. There was nothing in the records that brought any light to anything haunting the house, poltergeist or otherwise. And, according to Dean, nobody had anything even slightly bad to say about the town.

Reluctantly, they decided to pick it up again later and turn in for the night. Dean, as usual, had laid up on the hard mattress for hours, trying and failing to fall asleep. He was exhausted, yet he couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried. Every time he did a sense of guilt rolled over him and kept him from nodding off. That, or his muscles would tighten and his heart would pick up, keeping him away from any form of sleep. Instead, Dean would have to go to whatever bar was closest and drink a couple beers, just enough to get him to relax, and return home.

It was strange, his relationship with alcohol now. He used to rely on his ability to get completely smashed- allowing his mind to get over turned by muddy memories and drunken mistakes, but now the thought of getting to that point repulsed him. It almost felt childish, and the idea became stupid. He should be  _better_  than that.

It was in this mindset that Dean found himself in a bar at 1:30 in the morning, ordering a drink second naturedly, not even paying attention. He was drained, and not in the mood for pleasantries. Still, however, he flashed his eyes up to thank his server in an ingrained motion.

When he fell off the stool and the sharp glass bit into his skin, the pain was the last thing he was aware of. It was with mild horror that he watched Cas look down at him, shocked, before heading around the counter and appearing  _right in front of him_. He leaned down and got directly in front of dean, eyes looking apologetic while he fidgeted next to him.

"Oh my gosh. Are you ok?" Cas said, before grabbing Dean by his shoulders and lifting him up. When he did, his eyes zeroed in on the red staining his hand, and grimaced. "That looks like it hurts. Sorry about that. I'll go get a first aid kit. It has a couple bandages in it. I'm not supposed to use it unless I have to, but I'm pretty sure this situation is pertinent, don't you?"

Cas left quickly, throwing another glance of apology back at the man behind him before heading around back. Dean could hardly do more than stare after him, shell shocked. His blood felt like it was a mix of fire and ice, and it wasn't until his throat started to clog up that Dean snapped out of it and all but ran out of the bar, breathing in laboriously when the cool air wrapped around him.

Once he had gained his breath enough, he walked in a daze down to the corner shop at purchased a bottle of jack. On the whole way back to the motel, he drained the bottle, stopping once more along the way to pick up another. How he made it back in one piece would be a mystery, but at two thirty Dean stumbled blind drunk into the motel room, and if he was any more lucid he would have thanked himself for not locking it when he left, and collapsed onto the foot of his bed before passing out.

* * *

The next morning, or afternoon, judging by the amount of sunlight leaking in through the closed blinds, Dean woke up to pounding drums and various other loud brash instruments. It was a symphony he had become unaccustomed to, and he was eternally grateful to the glass of water and pills that Sam must have placed on the mantel.

When he had finally dragged himself out of bed and to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, he came back feeling marginally more human. When he met up with Sam at the diner an hour later and had consumed two cups of coffee and a deliciously disgusting plate of liquefied egg and bacon did he feel himself.

He didn't know what made him keep quiet about… last night. But for some reason it seemed that if he were to say anything…it wouldn't be true. That he had just imagined it. There was no way. It wasn't possible. He had imagined it. It was as simple as that.

Distantly, he heard Sam start talking about the plans for the day, and forced himself to pay attention .

"Look. I don't think we're going to get very far by going to the library again when we have no idea what we're going off of. So I was thinking we should stop at the museum in town. It's kind of everything all rolled into one, art, natural history, nature and science…it's kind of a hodgepodge of everything. It's also been around for decades, so I'm willing to bet it's a good place to start looking if we want answers any time soon."

Dean nodded, happy with what every plan involving anything, and shoveled down the rest of the food before standing up and brushing his hands on his jeans. After tossing a wad of cash onto the table, he headed out to the car. 10 minutes later, the pulled up in front of the building, ready to figure out how to gank whatever bastard was lurking around.

* * *

**Part II: Cas**

Cas started the day per usual, with a black coffee and a scone before heading over to the museum. Last night at the bar had been fairly quiet- ever for a Tuesday, except for the strange man who popped up right around closing time. After coming back with the first aid kit to find him already gone, Cas resolutely set about cleaning up the mess on the floor before finishing wiping down all of the appliances and closing the place down.

Cas led two tours before lunch time, making it back a little late after getting side tracked by a frankly hilarious albeit grainy picture from Nora of Tanya and her boyfriend on break.

The tour started out per usual, super engaged in the front, interested but quiet in the middle, and stragglers/ talkers in the back. Normally he could recognize almost everyone, as in a small town like this regulars made up the majority of the people who visited. When they reached one of the break points in the tour did Cas make his way over to the people who composed the back of the line to see if they had any questions. It brought him up short to see the man from yesterday standing next to a tall man, looking extremely uncomfortable. They appeared to be in an argument, judging by the way the shorter had squared his shoulders and was staring resolutely at the ground.

Deciding to ignore what was probably a trifle family dispute- probably arguing over which house to purchase in this area after all, Cas walked over to them and politely smiled.

When short and admittedly gorgeous noticed him standing in front of him, he got visibly ill and tall and hairy looked uneasy. Putting on his best smile to best convey his stance on their lifestyle and set them at ease, Cas spoke up warmly.

"Hello. I'm Clarence. Do either of you have any questions on any of the exhibits we've looked at so far?"

What followed was one of the most awkward and stinted conversations he had the memory of holding. The man from yesterday alternated between staring directly at him like he had seen a ghost or looking literally anywhere else. It was the tall one who talked for them both, stopping habitually in his questions to bump or nudge the former, who resolutely would not talk.

Eventually, the questions that Sam, Cas found out, turned to talk of the town, and it was with a small laugh that Cas responded.

"Oh, I just moved here recently- only got an apartment about a year ago. So if you need any in-depth reviews on the housing around here, I'd ask Tyler, who runs the front desk, but I've been reading up on this place and the surrounding lore, and…"

It became exceedingly clear the longer he talks the more interested they get, so Cas decided to make this a bit easier for the two, clearly new to this, and answer the unspoken question.

"…But either way, this town is a great place. If you two were looking to settle down and start your like together, I'd recommend this neighborhood. Everyone around here is extremely welcoming. Just a couple years ago this one couple much like yourselves settled down. You wouldn't have to worry about anything."

There facial expressions transformed through several stages: confusion, shock, then what looked like borderline hysterical laughter from the taller while the shorter seemed to still be stuck on the shock. Cas paused for a minutes, internally kicking himself.  _What if they're still closeted idiot! They're not from around here!_

Finally, the older let out a juddering laugh, which spurred the shorter into talking for the first time.

"Dude no."  _Wow his voice was gruff_. "We're not. No. we're brothers!" He said with clear indignation, as if he was expected to know that.

"Oh," Cas said, "My apologies. I just presumed…"

Sam interjected, saving him from making a fool of himself. "It's cool dude. We uh, we've gotten that before." He said, placating.

"Nevertheless, that was unprofessional of me and I apologize. If you could excuse me, I really should move around. If you have any more questions, be sure to ask whatever comes to mind."

Cas left the two, slightly embarrassed from his assumption and went back to watch the rest of the group. It was from the sidelines that he saw Sam pull the other man over to the wall and talk to him in hushed tones. Every now and again, he would redden in a way that Cas tried his best not to label cute and responded with a bowed head. Finally, much to Cas' surprise, he pulled away from the wall and headed in his direction.

Quickly, Cas did his best to look like he had not, in fact, been staring as he watched from the corner of his eye as he made his way across the gallery. When he got close enough, Cas turned, careful to look like he was just surveying the room before his eyes just happened to roam over the man in front of him.

"Uh, hi." The other man said, shifting from foot to foot.

"Clarence." Cas said warmly, leaning in slightly towards him.

"Right, Clarence. I found what you were talking about today really interesting, and I was wondering if you would want to talk some time? We could meet up at the bar, if you wanted. I mean, it's the least you could do after thinking I was with my brother." He grinned in what Cas could only interpret as a shy manner.

The invitation to what could only have been a date came as a surprise to Cas, but he couldn't quell the rise of delighted surprise in this gut at the suggestion.

"Of course. I'd love to. I have a shift tonight that starts at 6 but gets off at 10, so if you want to meet up there after…"

Smiling, nervously once more, the other man nodded.

"Sure man. But I might show up sooner. Word around is that the burgers served up over there are pretty good."

"I wouldn't say that, but the company would be appreciated." Cas said, chuckling softly.

They talked for a few minutes more before they eventually had to part ways, the other visitors long since ready to move galleries. Just as he was about to pull a way, Cas reached over and placed his hand on the other guys bicep. When he looked up in bewilderment, Cas smiled warmly.

"I never did catch your name."

A cocktail of emotions that Cas wasn't even able to start deciphering flashed quickly across his face before settling into an easy smile once more.

"Oh right sorry. It's Dean."

Feeling heat thrum deliciously in his body, Cas pulled away before returning to the front of the group.

"Goodbye, Dean."

Suddenly, the night couldn't come any sooner.

* * *

 

**Part III: Dean**

As soon as Cas left, Sam grabbed Dean and pulled him to the side.

“Dean listen to me. He obviously doesn’t recognize us, ok? Something’s wrong. We can’t just leave him like this until we figure out what happened ok.”

“I got that Sam! But what are we supposed to do? Kidnap the guy? I don’t think that will go down very well.”

“Dean, just- I’ll finish the case. You just find a  way to stick around for a while and have a conversation. Try to figure out what he knows, where he left off. Go to the bar with him. There’s a game on tonight, just say that you want to get a feel for the town. Say you’ve been looking for a place. I don’t know man, just say something. We don’t know what’s up with him right now.”

“Why me! You talk to him. You’re the puppy!”

Sam’s bitchface was definitely one for the books right then.

“Dean no. I’m not even going to- stop. I did all the research on this case anyway, so I might as well finish it. Just don’t to anything stupid.”

“Fine, Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sighing, Dean pulled away from the wall and worked his way slowly through the gallery. Cas was facing away from him, staring at one of the exhibits  to his right intently, which didn’t make his life any easier. Dreading the awkward shoulder tap or obvious throat clearing, Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Cas turned just before it all sorts of awkward and faced him with a winning smile.

Seeing Cas look like that, all happy, continuously threw him off. He was just so  _expressionate_ , and compared to his usual poker face- seeing Cas look so relaxed and free made something in him…tear.

“Uh, hi.” He said. Classy, Winchester.

“Clarence.” Cas said warmly, leaning forward and sticking out his hand.

“Right, Clarence.”

_Why did he have to use that name??_

“I found what you were talking about today really interesting, and I was wondering if you would want to talk some time? We could meet up at the bar, if you wanted. I mean, it’s the least you could do after thinking I was with my brother.” He said, plastering a grin on  his face. It felt awkward, lying to Cas. It soured in his mouth, knowing that something had got to him when he needed him most. And no one had been there…

 “Of course. I’d love to. I have a shift tonight that starts at 6 but gets off at 10, so if you want to meet up there after…”

Surprised that he had excepted so easily, Dean tried for an encouraging smile and nodded, relieved he wouldn’t have to think of another way to convince him hang out.

“Sure man. But I might show up sooner. Word around is that the burgers served up over there are pretty good.”

_Is that laying it on a little thick? How else was he supposed to keep an eye on him?_

“I wouldn’t say that, but the company would be appreciated.” Cas said, chuckling softly.

Somehow, they ended up talking for a few more minutes, before Dean saw Cas look guiltily at his watch several times and Dean knew he had to get back.

“Go ahead. I’m sure some people have some super boring nerdy questions to ask you.”

Smiling, Dean turned around to go back to Sam when Cas reached over and placed his hand on his bicep. When he looked up in bewilderment, Cas smiled warmly.

“I never did catch your name.”            

Dean’s heart tore again, and the joy and charm that had built up throughout their short conversation alone blew out of his lungs, and the twisted heartache burned. Quickly, he pulled out a smile before he shattered.

 “Oh right sorry. It’s Dean.”

Smiling, Cas looked at him with a small gleam in his eyes.

 “Goodbye, Dean.” 

* * *

The bar was thrumming, and Dean found himself sitting in one of the tables towards the back with a clear view of Cas. He saw him smile, laugh, talk amicably, and interact with people. Dean all but lost it when a woman working the counter with him said something and Cas threw his head back and just  _laugh_ , his deep voice reaching even him.

It would have ended there, with Dean sitting in the back of the room and just brooding had Cas not looked at them regularly throughout the night.

At first, he thought he was just checking in on him every few minutes, but it wasn’t until the fourth time when Cas caught his eyes, looking up from under his eyelashes, and held the gaze did his blood heat up.

After that, he couldn’t look away, following every move of the lithe man across the bar. Every now and then he would flash him heated smiles, and Dean just wouldn’t be able to turn away. This was so wrong. This wasn’t Cas, not his Cas. Yet it was. He couldn’t be more far away yet he felt like he was standing right in front of him, practically breathing the same air. Not one thought of personal space sprung into his brain. Heat pooled deep in his gut, and every time their eyes caught a twinge of electricity shot down his spine and collected in his gut, sending blood pounding in his ears.

Eventually, after they danced around each other for what felt like years, Cas made his way over to him slowly. It was only then did Dean look around him, surprised to find the bar all but empty save for a few couples around the pool table.

Not breaking eye contact, Cas slid into the chair opposite him.

“Hello Dean.”

* * *

They talked for hours, talking about their lives and what they did for a living. (“Ya. I’m uh, a mechanic. Been fixing up cars my whole life. Decided to make a career out of it.”)

As they talked, Dean realized in horror that Cas really didn’t remember anything. He was a blank slate- completely blind to everything that had ever happened to him. It would have been enough to make him scream in frustration had Cas not continued  _looking_  at him like that. Somehow, throughout their conversation, They had gravitated towards one another, practically sitting on top of the other as they talked, leaning in to share the same space.

Reluctantly, Dean stood up and held out his hand to Cas.

“This was great man. I’d love to do it again sometime. You’re an interesting dude.”

“I agree. You’re a very special man, Dean Winchester.” Cas said, roughly.

When he stood up to leave, Cas didn’t back up, immediately resulting in them standing face to face. Dean felt the soft puff of Cas’ breath against his lips, and he inhaled sharply.

Confused and flushed, Dean was just about to step backwards awkwardly before leaving and trying to figure out what the fuck way going on, when Cas leaned forward, closing the gap.

Soft lips pressed against his, plush and warm and  _Cas_. Shock froze him in place, unmoving. When he finally had regained enough brain function to respond in some way, Cas had already pulled back, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you soon. Goodnight, Dean.”

* * *

When Dean came all but running back into the motel, Sam immediately reached for his room, ready for whatever was about to happen. But when he saw his brother’s face and only witnessed confusion, arousal, and surprise, Sam lowered the gun, but was no less on guard.

“What’s wrong Dean? What happened?”

Swallowing visibly, Dean looked around with blown eyes.

“Cas- he’d not right Sam. Something must gotten to him- I know it. He doesn’t remember anything. Jesus Christ, Sam- He’s gone.” 

* * *

**Another magical moment has finally arrived! I feel like crying with relief. Fun fact: This story was originally plotted out to span 1-3 chapters. I'm laughing but inside I'm crying :D**

**Thank you to everyone who has stuck around this long; I know it took forever but I hope all the build up and details become worth it in the end :/**

**Thank you so much for sticking around!**

**VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION THAT NEEDS TO BE ANSWERED: Would you rather I continue updating once a week with shorter chapters, or update every other week with longer ones (that would also probably be more grammatical, lets be honest)**

**~Magnolia**


	17. Trials and Tribulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I'm just going to go ahead and say this chapter was incredibly hard to write. Every word had to be like...wrenched out of me and it frustrated me to know end. I'm really sorry if it shows...

 And the feeling coming from my bones says find a home...  
I'm going to Wichita  
Far from this opera forevermore  
I'm gonna work the straw  
Make the sweat drip out of every pore  
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding  
Right before the lord  
All the words are gonna bleed from me  
And I will think no more

And the stains comin' from my blood tell me "Go back home"...

* * *

Dean drove. There was something about the soothing familiarity if the leather and steel and the calming stretch of the empty road that was perfectly conducive to thinking.

In this case, he was doing his best to not think, the shame absolutely burning him up from the inside.

_Ah shit. Fuck!-that's Cas. And I know that's Cas- but he doesn't know he's Cas. How could I let that happen? There's no way that would have happened if he knew who he was. We're not like that; he's not like that. And even if he was, there's no way he would have jumped me if I was the one mind whammied. The dude's been mind wiped by some fucker who we don't even know yet; and I kissed him? What the hell is wrong with me? He deserves better than that- someone who won't creep on him when he's down. Shit. I can't do this to him. He deserves someone better. Someone- anyone else…_

So he drove. He drove and drove until there was nothing but a straight line between the road and the horizon. The miles ticked away, falling behind him as easily as it has always been. And it was; easy. The longer he drove the safer he was. From everything. From hurting people. From causing more damage.

_I've caused enough already…_

Hours later, Dean caught sight of a state sign as it neared, cheerfully welcoming him into Wyoming. The realization of what he was truly doing hit him hard. A crippling vice tightened around his throat, chocking him and locking him in place.

_What am I doing? The second I find him again, The very second I do I check out. What if something found him! He has no way of protecting himself and I could go back and he'd be gone and this time it would be it. I wouldn't ever see him again and it would be over. He'd be trapped not knowing who he is or even knowing that he doesn't know something and it would be all my fault. He'd be clueless while every angel worth a damn is still out to skin him alive and he would have no idea. They'd kill him. They'd torture him over something he doesn't even remember doing with no way of getting out of it and I could be there right now.._

Numbly, Dean reached for him phone and quickly called Sam- every second Cas was unattended feeling like a year.

* * *

Sam stepped into the bar, immediately hit by a wave of stuffy humid air. Looking around the bar was all but empty, something you could certainty expect on a Thursday night. Dean calling him had been a surprise- usually when Dean took off these days he didn't make contact for several days. Instead he'd only been gone for a few hours before Sam's phone had rung.

Fast forward three hours, and here Sam was, stepping into the bar where Cas worked to figure out what in the world had happened and what could possibly be done to fix it.

The bar was small but homely, and Sam felt a small pang in his chest at just how much like Harvell's this new place was. Leave it to Cas…

Maneuvering his way around the tables, Sam went over to the bar, waiting with mixed feelings for Cas to notice him. When he finally looked up, Sam smiled widely, trying his best to set the both of them at ease.

"Oh hey! Didn't know you worked here too. Small world." Sam said, grinning.

"That it is. What are you having?" Cas grinned, leaning on the table.

"Uh, whatever's on tap is fine." Shifting, Sam grimaced as he peeled his jacket off, already the heat getting to him.

Passing over the chilled glass, Cas winced in apology.

"Sorry about the heat. The A/C broke this morning and the only guys in town who can fix it are on vacation."

"No problem man, I've dealt with worse." Getting an idea, Sam lifted his eyes to meet Cas', "You know, I was a mechanic and a repairman for a while. I could give it a look if you wanted."

A look a sheer relief spread across his face, and Sam almost laughed at just how happy he looked. Quickly trying to mask his hopefulness, Cas schooled his expression. "Oh no it's fine. You don't have to. I'm sure they'll be back within the week. I'd hate for you to go through the trouble of-"

"Dude it's fine. If I can barely survive 5 minutes I don't know how you managed however many hours you have left in your shift. And for the rest of the week? Nah I got it. Do you have any tools?"

Looking for all the world like he wanted to argue for politeness' sake and to accept, Sam smiled inwardly, enjoying the blatant splay of emotion across his friends' face that he never got to see. Warring internally, Cas seemed to finally reach a discussion when he nodded.

"Of course. I have a box of…stuff out back. I'm afraid I won't be much help. I can't thank you enough for this." Cas said gratefully before moving into a backroom.

Returning shortly with a boy filled haphazardously with a bunch of different tools and wires, Cas glanced down sheepishly at the mess.

"I really wasn't sure what appliances were appropriate or required… so I brought them all."

The statement, was enough to startle a laugh out of him, and after a moment Cas joined in, chuckling softly. It was going to be an interesting few hours.

* * *

A good deal of time was spent untangling the mess of tools that had been thrown into the box. Each of the screwdrivers were trapped in seemingly impossible ways in the mess, and quickly the two deemed it wise to just organize the whole thing before even beginning the actual fix.

Quickly the two fell into an easy comrade, working side by side to get into the nest of wires before every now and then Cas would get up to get them another glass of water. They talked easy, Sam grateful that he wasn't going to have to pry or sound overly nosy trying to get information out of him.

It proved useless though, as time went on and the A/C was almost fully repaired, Sam was still no closer to finding out how in the world Cas had landed himself in this position, or if he was still in danger. He was decidedly stuck on square one, and apart from kidnapping the guy and running him to the nearest psychic, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Finally, towards the final adjustments to the machine, Cas leaned back and sighed, mopping the back of his neck with a hand towel. Sweat rolled down his face, collecting in the hollow of his neck. Cas had taken off his jacket hours before, yet he felt ready to melt out of his remaining clothes in a matter of moments.

Unbuttoning his cuffs, Cas rolled up his sleeves, exhaling in relief at just how much less restricting the simple fix was. He'd never had reason to do such a thing, and the thought only coming to him while he stared at the Winchester in jealousy when he had taken off his shirt to bare just a white tank. His simple, "Why don't you just roll up your sleeves?" didn't help the matter when his knee-jerk response had been to say, "I'm fine." That left him stuck, unable to roll them up for fear of looking petulant and now very focused on the obvious solution to his current predicament.

After waiting ten minutes, a torture he dignified long enough before following through on his advice and  _finally sweet sweet relief_  rolling the sleeves up.

* * *

Sam straightened up, stretching his back and listening to the satisfying crack before looking over at Cas. The idiot had finally taken his advice and rolled his sleeves up. Opening his mouth to fire off a remark, Sam noticed the huge tattoo, spanning the length of Cas' entire forearm. Immediately his jovial mood disappeared and was replaced his thick roiling dread.

Trying not show any signs of distress, Sam cleared his throat and asked thickly, "Woah. Cool tats man. Where did you get them?"

Surprised, Cas followed the line of his eyes to his arm where he suddenly chuckled. "Would you believe I was out with some friends, got spectacularly drunk and woke up with it in the morning? I don't even know what it means. I just thank whatever God there is that it doesn't look half bad. It's pretty interesting, you know?"

Nodding his head in forced agreement, Sam went back to working on the A/C, mind working feverously.

* * *

Dean stumbled back into the motel room, eyes dark from lack of sleep. After hanging up with Sam, he crashed the first internet café he could find and researched for hours for any sign of something, any pattern of disappearance or freak accident that could have led to an answer. Nothing; Cas' past year was a blank slate, clean and pristine as only something really powerful could have pulled off. Nothing even showed signs of a fight, of anything to show Cas had any idea of what was happening.

Not much could get the drop on him. Dean tried not to think about that.

He researched for hours, until the radio silence from Sam got to be too much before going straight back to his car and heading back to California.

He was hungry, exhausted, and defeated; and the haunted look on Sam's face when he entered the door did not do much for him.

"I didn't find anything Sammy. I wasn't there when he needed me and now he's fucking Clarence without a shred of memory of who I-" Dean took a deep breath, "or you are." Fighting to continue, Dean clenched his teeth and flexed his hands." I've researched for hours, man. There's nothing. I have no fucking clue what to do right now. We have shit for leads. God fucking Dammit."

Dean paused, breathing heavy. He was mad. He was frustrated.

_And I'm fucking worthless._

Sam, who had been looking at him with a twisted expression took a deep breath and stood up, looking for all the world like he was doing his best to be sympathetic.

"Sam-" Dean started, trying to warn him off from forcing this into a chick flick moment.

"No Dean wait. When I went over to the bar like you asked, I got to talk to Cas."

"Yes and? He knows nothing. He's happy and oblivious and fucking in trouble."

"No, I mean yes but- I… did find out something."

Quickly, something in Dean tightened, almost stopping his breathing altogether. Because while this should be a good think, Sam did  _not_ look happy.

"Uh-" Sam ran his fingers through his hair, doing his best to distract himself. "Here."

Sam passed Dean his phone, open on a grainy image of someone's arm. After flipping through several of the same shots taken at different angles, Dean looked up, confused.

"I got nothing, man. What does this have to do with anything?"

Grimacing, Sam walked over to the phone and stared at the images carefully.

"Those symbols, I haven't been able to identify what really any of them are yet. They're…not normal. Except- I was able to tell what that one in the front is." Sam said, pointing at the mark towards the man's wrist.

"It's um. It's a symbol of Chronos. Lord of Time. This.. this spell. It's tattooed on Cas' skin"

Dean blinked. Hard.

* * *

**Ok! So there you go! Pretty sure I'll have an update out my next weekend. Hope you guys had a great Valentine's Day! I know I'm happy about the 3 day weekend I'm getting- thank you America :D**

**Let me know what you think! Don't be a stranger!**

**~Magnolia**


	18. Reality's A B!tch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I don't think I've been more tired in my life. Note to self: Do NOT try to update two stories in a week. I swear the walls are moving right now...
> 
> I warn thee- this chapter has come

 Feeling my way through the darkness  
Guided by a beating heart  
I can't tell where the journey will end  
But I know where to start

They tell me I'm too young to understand  
They say I'm caught up in a dream  
Well life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes  
Well that's fine by me

I tried carrying the weight of the world  
But I only have two hands  
Hope I get the chance to travel the world  
But I don't have any plans

* * *

The next day Dean called Cas. He felt so damn awful, trying to sound cheery on the line. Hearing his voice on the other end yet the tone and inflection behind the words being so completely different hurt. It tore, and the thought of having to continuously lie to his face and every moment in between caused something to shrivel up inside of him; but he had to. He didn't have a choice. If there was any way to free Cas from whatever…thing was placed on him, it was going to be by befriending the guy.

They started hanging out, which really just consisted of Dean going to the bar and watching Cas while he served everyone until the place would die down and Cas would slide into the seat opposite him, a warm smile flitting across his face. The simple gesture always had Dean returning a shy smile of his own before he realized what he was doing. Coughing to avoid anything awkward, Dean would pull his beer closer and bring it to his lips, using the amber liquid as a much needed distraction.

_Smooth, Winchester_

Dean would gulp a few much needed mouthfuls of liquor, trying his best to seem casual. On some of the nights, when Dean happened to catch Cas' eye, he would notice the man roll his eyes sky ward with a exasperated smile on his face before playing along with Dean's method of  _what elephant?_

As the days went on, conversation got easier between them- flowing as easy as anything. It wasn't until Cas started talking about how it was difficult to fit in his morning runs on his new work schedule did Dean really get his first big slap in the face.

"Eww Dude. Running? There's got to be a better way to self-torture."

Rolling his eyes, Cas flicked a rolled up straw wrapper his way.

"It's good for you."

"No Ca-Clarence. It's really not. You- you become a mess and you stink. What are you doing- training to be the next Lance Armstrong?"

"That would be biking, Dean."

"Ya well," Dean brought the glass to his lips, "Run Forrest Run."

Cas flicked the other half of the wrapper at Dean, lodging it somewhere in his shirt.

"Anything you say, Lieutenant Dan."

Dean all but choked on his drink, working hard to reduce the urge to spray it all over the unfortunate guy in front of him.

After having a mini coughing fit in which Cas was sure he was going to have to perform the Heimlich or CPR or something, Dean recovered.

"You've- seen that movie?"

Baffled by how this could me such an odd occurrence, Cas spoke. "Well yes. After reading the novel I found it only fitting to see the movie. And as it won numerous awards and is considered to be a classic in manys' eye, it's not particularly an obscure film to be referencing. I highly doubt there is anyone who hasn't seen the film, or at the very least didn't understand the reference."

Forcing a laugh, Dean bowed his head, feeling something wedge where it really shouldn't.

Sometimes playing nice was just too damn hard.

* * *

Cas slid into the booth that had sooner that not been deemed 'their' booth. Lightly touching Dean's forearm to get his attention.

They did that a lot, recently. The small touches. Each time they touched, be in a press of fingers or the brush of a jean clad leg, Dean felt something warm pulse and grow where they were connected and worm its way into his stomach. He was happy, in those little moments.

And he hated it.

The second he realized what they were doing, when they would get into a heated discussion and end up leaning into each other's space after debating the proper use of a Prius (see: Dean thinks they'd be perfect for testing brakes. Cas heartily disagrees and feel personally offended as he just purchased one) or Dean had been in the middle of defending Han Solo's honor and Dean would stop in the middle to just-

_Goddamn his eyes are blue._

Stopping mid-sentence, Dean would end up lurching back, reddening visibly and subtly-not-so-subtlety throwing back the beer one the table and trying to regain some dignity.

It didn't work the times he took Cas'.

Dean hated those moments. Those moments of intimacy. At first he thought it was because they made him uncomfortable, but as time went on and he sat in the booth by the window for hours until Cas' shift was done- subsequently giving him a lot of time to turn into a middle school girl and actually think these things through. No- it wasn't because Cas' made him uncomfortable. It was because this was fake. Every second of it was a lie. A fucked up lie that couldn't possibly end well. It was fake, and he hated himself for buying into over and over again. These were stolen moments; ones that he loathed to remember were completely one sided and ill-timed. Castiel was fucking trapped inside his own body and Dean was what… using this as a perfect opening to creep on the guy?

Two weeks in, they finally made headway. Sam came into the motel room, fresh from the library holding a slip of paper. The second he got inside he tossed it in Dean's general direction, before collapsing onto his bed. Bending down to pluck it off the floor, Dean unfolded it to see a phone number.

"Sam what's this? Becky gave her number to you, not me."

"Shuddup," Sam said, voice muffled by the pillow his face was currently smashed in to. "I th't we'd agreed tha' we'd n'er speak o' her again."

"Then what then, that hot waitress down at the diner wanted you to pass this along? Well I'm flattered Sammy, but I'm really not that interested right now." Dean said, smiling widely.

"Dean. I swear you are tha most infur'atin person tha I've 'er met you're lucky y'er my broth'r cuz if you wr'nt…"

Dean through a bottle cap at him.

"Try this n'xt time you wan me t'do something for you." Sam muttered darkly.

"You're right you're right princess. I'll do my best to wash and press your sheets for you next time as well."

"You need to stop t'lkn real fast cuz I don't have to tell you n'thin."

Dean shut up and waited patiently, sercretly enjoying I-haven't-slept-in-two-days-and-am-running-off-of-gas-station-coffee-and-redbull- Sam. It was an interesting change of pace, to say the least.

"Thnk you. The number's for a psychic in the area. I thnk if we c'n get 'er to Cas n she c'n get 'is memr'y back. 'Sworth a shot."

Deam made a brief sound of acknowledgment, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

"Hope it works."

Dean sighed, reclining in his chair.

"Me too"

* * *

The Carnival was packed with large families taking up the entire space or the huge-ass strollers that were two seats wide and four seats deep. He had no idea how anyone could actually like a place like this. It was the epitome of obnoxiousness- a hodgepodge of noisy smelly kids taking up all the space.

He looked over at Cas, who was walking at his side and smiling at the scene playing out around them. Dean had no idea why, there was nothing Hallmark about the devastation to humanity going on around them.

Dean had suggested to Cas' that they go to the Carnival that was coming into town that weekend. If the reason was because the psychic agreed to pitch a tent there- only he had to know. Stuttering out some half-baked excuse about how a change of scenery could always be a good thing.

Smiling, Cas put his hand on top of Dean's, effectively ending what was about to be classified as full out babbling.

"Of course I'll go. I'd love to."

Smiling, Dean flipped their hands over, stroking the soft skin on the inside of Cas' wrist with his thumb.

"Oh. That's- that's great. I- guess I'll pick you up then."

Smiling, Cas had just gone back to cleaning the counters.

Dean was about to launch into "95 thesis on why Carnival's should be age restricted" when he caught sight of a miracle actually occurring in front of him.

Noticing Dean's sudden distraction, Cas followed his line of sight until he focused on the vendor in the process of making funnel cake. Laughing, Cas grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him over to the booth.

Twenty minutes later, the two had each consumed a funnel cake and was working their way through a shared bag of kettle corn.

"I take it back. I fucking love carnivals." Dean said around a mouthful of powdered sugar and batter.

"Ya I know you do" Cas said warmly, butting Dean with his shoulder.

Suddenly remembering why they were there, Dean coughed and shoved another portion of the cake into his mouth, dusting his hands on his knees. They walked on for several, stopping once at a booth where Cas had taken a certain liking to one of the stupid stuffed animals.

After murmuring under his breath how pointless the thing was, Dean slapped a five onto the counter and demanded the kid tell him what he needed to do to win the damn animal.

After several attempts and his language quickly reaching blasphemous levels in the extreme proximity to children, Cas ended up taking over and winning the game himself.

Dean called it luck.

Cas agreed to the sentiment far too easily for it to mean anything good.

A while later, they finally made it to a cheesy looking Party City-esque style fortune tellers booth.

"Well I think it's legit." Dean said, sarcastically.

"It would appear so." Cas chuckled, glancing with mirth at the cheap set up.

"I dare you to see what you're future is." Dean joked, hoping that Cas would agree to do it now without any hassle.

Eyes narrowing shrewdly, Cas took stalk of the tent in front of him.

"Fine. But if I do you have to go after."

"Deal." Dean agreed, well aware that if it came down to it there wouldn't  _be_  an after.

Cas, seemingly satisfied with his answer, slipped inside the tent. Quickly sending off a 'thank you' to whatever party was responsible for allowing the series of events to go smoothly, he slipped inside the tent, ducking in next to Cas.

The inside didn't look any more polished than the exterior. The woman sitting on the floor was even dressed insanely, decked out in the biggest hat he'd ever seen and about fifty yards of fabric underneath at least 20 different necklaces and three times the rings.

She looked up from her 'magic ball', locking eyes with Dean. He nodded to her, and like a switch was flipped she was off the ground standing in front of Cas.

"Hello there, weary traveler," she said, voice rough and heavy, "I sense you're here to discover your future?"

Dean watched Cas' face, noticing in amusement how he was fighting to remain expressionless.

"That's right ma'am."

Then take a seat dear! Drink this magical serum to allow me to see inside your heart."

As she spoke the words, she reached under the table and pulled out a dixie cup of greeny- browny liquid."

Leaning over to whisper in his ear, Dean spoke, "twenty bucks says it's green tea."

"Deal." Cas whispered back, before taking the cup from the woman graciously and downing the contents. Not three seconds later did his eyes glaze over and slump to the ground, only being saved by Dean's knowledge of the events to come.

"Finally you two show up. Do you know how many times I've had to read fortune cookie prophesies today? Thirty-five million times to many!"

"I'm sorry, Rachel. We got a bit…side tracked. What did you hit him with anyway?"

Groaning as she slipped out of her crazy get-up, Rachel stretched, popping her back and relaxing her tense muscles. "Oh- nothing major. Just a simple relaxer. All I have to do is make him smell this herb mixture and he'll be awake and none the wiser. So, what can I do for you two?"

Shifting slightly, Dean looked down at the unconscious man in his arms before slowly lowering him to the floor.

"Something put a spell on him, pretty major as far as we can figure. We- my brother and I, were hoping you could jog his memory- overcome the whatsoever was put on him?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Rachel went over to Cas and kneeled on the ground. After studying his face, she slowly extended her arm until three of her fingers formed a triangle on his forehead. She closed her eyes, reading something in the vibrations of his molecules. Finally, she opened her eyes and leaned back, staring appraisingly at Dean.

"That is one mighty strong mind block spell. There is nothing I can do right now to tear it down properly. You'd need an angel or something for that. But.." She said, thoughtfully, "I might be able to circumvent it, build a tunnel under the wall, if you will. I could buy us ten minutes to try and have him break the wall for us."

Relieved that they were finally going to get somewhere, Dean nodded his head rapidly in ascension, blood practically singing in his veins. Slowly, oh so slowly, Rachel's hands once again rested against his forehead.

Time ticked by slowly, the only marker being the increased from on Rach's face and the sweat beading on her brow. Finally,  _finally_ , a white glow started to emanate from Cas' pores, edging out of the skin in waves.

All of a sudden, like a damn breaking, a huge pulse of light shot out of his skin, and Cas sat up straight, gasping for air.

* * *

Staring at the man at his feet, Dean didn't bear to let himself hope that it was actually him. All this time searching for a solution, and Dean didn't have one idea what to do when he finally got Cas back. He had no idea what to say, no inclining on where to start or-

"Cas?" Dean forced out, small and weak.

At the sound of his voice, Cas' eyes flashed up to meet his, depth that Dean hadn't seen in over a year.

"Oh god Cas, it's really you." Dean whispered brokenly. Relief coursing through him making him weak, Dean rested his arm on Cas' shoulder.

* * *

"…Cas?"

A voice Cas longed and feared to hear for months now wavered above him. Snapping his eyes to those of the man above him, Cas locked eyes with someone he had never hoped- never dreamed of seeing again. Memories rushed into the forefront of his mind, falling back into place where they had always been, like they had never been gone. It was confusing, relearning memories, and it sent him reeling.

"Oh god Cas, it's really you." Dean spoke again, and the clear relief etched in all of his features sent a wave of unadulterated joy through him, rendering him almost giddy with the knowledge that he wasn't left behind.. A huge smile was working its way up his cheeks, his ling awaited reply to Dean's call burning on the tip of his tongue when Dean reached out his arm and gripped his shoulder, as if to reaffirm that he was real.

_.._

_You can't stay here._

…

_We're not gonna throw you out on the streets, man._

_We're family._

_.._

_You can't stay here._

…

_'Baby in a trench coat. Only babies whine._

_.._

_You can't stay here._

…

_Nobody cares that you're broken._

_.._

_You can't stay here._

…

_I'd rather have you, cured or not._

_.._

_You can't stay here._

… _  
We're family. We need you. I need you_

_.._

_You can't stay here._

…

_Can't_

_Stay_

_Here_

_.._

"No!" Cas shouted, stumbling to his feet. He wrenched himself free of Dean's grip, stumbling over to the other side of the tent in front of the door, clutching himself.

"No! I shouldn't be here! I forgot- I'm supposed to forget! It was supposed to be permanent!"

On the other side of the room, Dean took a step closer, arms raised as if he was trying to calm a wild animal, though he was clearly freaked.

"Cas what are you talking about? Calm down, it's ok. We'll figure this out. Just stay with me man."

_You can't stay here._

" _No! No stay back! I- I have to go. I can't… can't be here. Can't be here._

I'm sorry- I'll do a better job of staying away next time.. I should've done better. I'm sorry- I have to go. I can't, can't stay here."

All but lunging out of the tent, Cas ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Eventually, Cas pulled into a side street that he didn't recognize. Feeling his head swim and his body shudder with exhaustion beneath him, Cas rested his head against the moldy brick.

Several minutes later, his vision grew fuzzy, a white light buzzing at the edges of his eyes. Instead of feeling panicked, Cas relaxed into the sensation, acknowledging it for what is was. Slowly, the mind numbing effects of the spell worked its way back into his muscles and bone, seeping away into the crevices of his atoms- taking with it all the burning memories scalding his brain.

A white light lit up the dingy street corner, leaving behind a very confused man close to collapse with no idea where he was.

Looking around him, Clarence turned around, and was relieved to see the street in front of him. Walking on burning legs towards the road, he made it halfway before a weird sound of something appearing behind him blew over his senses. Confused as to who possibly could have been in the dead-end alley with him, Cas turned around to face the man, intent of making it to the street hopefully unharmed.

Instead, a pristine man in a suit stood before him. Relaxing slightly, he smiled hesitantly at the man before him.

"Hello, I-"

"We've been looking for you a long time, Castiel."

_Castiel?_

"Knew those Winchesters would lead us directly to you.

_Who, Dean? What could he have anything to do with this man? Oh god- was he tied up with the mafia?_

"I'm sorry? I don't-"

Someone grabbed him from behind. Before he could even utter a squeak, something sharp hit him at the base of his neck.

_Blackout_

* * *

**AND THERE YOU HAVE IT!**

**~Magnolia**


	19. Sacrificial Lamb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ones a bit shorter than the last- apologies. I wrote so late in the night that at one point I was typing with my eyes closed because they were soooooooo heavy.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me guys-
> 
> TW: torture

Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you  
She tied you to her kitchen chair  
She broke your throne and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I've been here before  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know)  
I used to live alone before I knew you  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
and love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you  
And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah  
  
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...  
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...  
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah  
Hallelujah, hallelujah

* * *

 

Cas’ head thrummed, waves of warmth moving throughout his body. He felt like each limb was made out of lead, heavy and immovable. Lax and prone, Cas fought a losing battle with his eyelids to try and keep them open. The seconds ticked by, and Cas could do little more than hear through a veil of muffled cotton.

            Slowly, the warmth sharpened into an uncomfortable burn. Focusing upwards, a lance of white hot fire shot through him and wrapping in tight coils around his body. Gasping for air, Cas wrenched his eyes open and screamed in shock. Blood pounded loudly in his through his body, and even the slightest movement sent mind numbing pain racing through him.

            Doing his best to keep from moving any part of himself, Cas trembled against the wall, trying to see through his spiraling vision where he was. A small room contracted around him, lengthening and shrinking at every pulse. There was nothing in it- barren. It was made of wood and no bigger than a closet. A small door rested inconspicuously off to the side, and with relief Cas went to move his arms to get closer to it.

            He pulled his arm forward, as if to start towards the door, when the movement caused him to go blind with agony. He sharply gagged and black out for a second. Tears streaming down his face, Cas gritted his teeth and turned his head slightly to look up.

            Stretched on either side of his head, Cas’ arms were extended on a plank. Towards the end on the bar, a thick rusted nail drove through his palms, which were discolored with blackened and purpling  bruises and oozing blood and puss.

            Bile threatened to rise in his chest, and Cas ground his teeth and looked up at the low ceiling, breathing heavily to try and clear his head. After a few more moments, he built up enough courage to take further stock, trying his best to move as little as possible for fear of disrupting his arms. Looking down at his naked body, thin trails of blood ran down his chest in a web.

Feeling something sharp bite in all around his head and a warm sticky liquid a constant pressure on his neck, Cas could only assume something was coming from there.

            Looking down at the rest of his body, he almost sobbed in relief to find that he was otherwise unharmed, save for the coarse rope bound tightly around his ankles. The two bones were tied brutally tight together; chaffing and constricted enough to turn his feet purple with blood and the skin around his bindings swollen and green.

            Time passed in some incognizable  way, bending and warping around him with no rhyme or reason. He took to counting the sluggish thrum of his pulse. It pounded loudly in his head, thudding painfully against whatever sharp metal bit into his skull.

            His bones ached every passing minute, chest heaving and arms straining as his weight pulled painfully at the constraints in his arms. He felt gravity pull him down, and he could feel each rip and tear of flesh in his hand and the skin muscle and bone stretched and broke around the stake.

            He passed out several times, waking up in a cold sweat shivering and screaming and the heat. He felt like he was being burnt alive, yet at the same time he felt ice sharply in his blood; like blue fire. An icy rod of lightning shocked his system over and over, bringing him to tears and fearful heaves of his chest over and over.

            He spent the few minutes he had lucid enough to think to try and come up with where he was and who took him. The whole day before, if it was only that long ago, was a complete blur, reality mixing with imagination to much for him to be able to distinguish the truth.

            No one he knew could have done this- no one with a planned motive was behind this. The thought chilled him to the bone even more, the stone cold realization that he was kidnapped by a madman sending his already racing heart sprinting and his mind into a state of panic.

            Already, he knew it was over. He must have been captured by a psychotic, mentally deranged shell of a man. There would be no talking to him. Cas had nothing to offer- no answer to provide. He was nothing to his torturer- and left with the hands of a lunatic he was as good as dead. There was nothing he could want that Cas could give. After all- that would have made the man kidnap someone else. There was nothing he wanted from him. Nothing he could offer.

Time went on.

                        And on

                                    And on

 

Never ceasing

Never ending

 

            He went in and out of conscious; fainting due to the pain and waking up because of it. Eventually, his arms became numb, almost separate from the rest of his body. His hands still burned, however, still ripped and tore- still sent burning wracks of pain jolting through his body.

 

Forever

 

~

 

A sound outside the room echoed through his tiny cell. A tear of relief rolled down his sore face, mixing with the dried blood in the hollows of his collar bones.

Cas raised his tongue and swiped it across his dry, cracked lips, and tried to call for help. The simple sound felt like it was wrenched from his lips, and he could tell his throat tore and shredded at the effort. Barely and noise was actually issued from his lips, amounting to little more than a muffled groan.

The more he tried, the more he panicked, weakly struggling against his bonds to get to his savior before he left. He couldn’t be left. He needed to be found. Now.

“Help!” he croaked, feebly. “Somebody help. I’m in here.”

Tears started to stream down his face at the knowledge that he was going to die here. He was trapped, alone, and unable to call for help.

And then all at once, the door was wrenched open. In stepped a well dressed man, who looked at him in quiet appraisal

_Oh thank god it’s a fed_

“Help…” Cas broke out, feebly.

The man, whoever he was, walked slowly up to Cas and grabbed him by the chin, holding it tightly in between two fingers and tilting his head up to meet him.

“Oh Castiel… Whatever should we do with you?”

 

~

 

The man tightened his grip on Cas’ chin and pushed his head back sharply against the wall. Pain shot through his whole body as whatever was tied around his head drove in, breaking skin and parting bone. He gasped in numb shock, to surprised to do anything else.

“You know, we’ve been looking for you everywhere. Big man got mad when you went off the radar. He went through so much trouble to get you here.”

Fighting to process what the man was talking about, Cas feebly spoke. “Who- who do you serve.?”

The man got a crazy glint in his eye before slapping his across the face with crushing force and laughed coldly.

“Serve? I don’t serve anyone. Let’s just say we have a… working relationship. I help him, he helps me. It’s win win. So you-you’re really nothing to me. However, Malachi; well, he thinks you deserve a special… penance for all you’ve done“

Slowly, he picked up a four-sided blade, glinting silver in the air, and twirled it between his fingers. Panic quickly rose in his chest, causing his heart to beat loudly in his ears. Wearily, he followed the path of the blade with his eyes, Terror raising the closer it got to his skin.

Calmly, and with a smooth motion that could have only come through practice, the man brought it down against his stomach, breaking skin. Cas screamed, feeling his throat tear and rip further, but unable to care. His stomach heaved, and each line drawn smoothly and delicately through his skin with practiced precision burned throughout his body, setting his whole self aflame.

Over time, Cas became only semi lucid to the pain, only registering that the cuts weren’t random, they were organized, patterned. Whatever he was doing, it was symbols. From the look of them, they appeared Satanic. The thought that they were going to sacrifice him chilled his core and made him go almost ashy with shock.

Cas starting begging then. He hoarsely ground out how he wasn’t the man they were looking for, that they made a mistake.

“I- I’m not Castiel! My name is Clarence. I work at the museum and the bar down the street. I- I own a cat. Please- you have to believe me! I got my degree from Stanford several years back and I’ve been working at different museums ever since. Look- this was all a misunderstanding. If you let me go, it’ll be ok. I won’t say anything. It wouldn’t matter anyway, I don’t know anything! Please- you have to believe me! I’m not who you’re looking for!”

Cas finished with a whimper, blood rising up the caked walls of his throat to gather in the corners of his cracked lips and coagulate.

After he fell silent, the man halted in his movement, pulling the dripping blade away from his skin for the first time in hours. Stepping back softly to appear to look at him as if from a distance and with some scrutiny, Cas allowed for a glimmer of hope to grow.

“Oh Castiel, “ he tutted- ruining whatever hope Cas had of being set free, “When will you learn you can’t lie your way out of here? We know you’re the key to reopening heaven, all we need you to do is tell us how to do that. That’s not asking for much, I don’t think.”

He picked up the knife, ready to resume to cutting stashing and tearing, when another man stepped into the room.

“Adiel, Malachi needs you immediately.”

Cas almost cried with relief, finally sensing a pause in his never ending torture, As he sagged against the wall, ‘Theo’ turned around one last time to survey his work. Apparently worthy of his approval, Theo nodded to himself before reaching over to Cas’ quickly and viciously twisting the stakes.

Cas screamed

            And screamed

                                    And screamed

 

 

No help came

* * *

**O.o**

**~Magnolia**


	20. On the Head of a Pin

  
Life was hard and I got down  
But I got up and carried on  
Time passed so slow

The life I lived was all in vain  
A worthless show, a pointless game  
Time was so cold

I'm tongue-tied, feels like  
I'm losing hold of this life  
But I don't wanna be the one I love

So I won't waste a lifetime living this life  
I'll start again

* * *

Cas didn't know whether it was day or night. He didn't know if he was laying down or sitting up, and he didn't know whether the screaming was passing his lips or reverberating throughout his skull. He didn't even know his own name. All he knew was that he was dying and that no one was coming to helped him. He's prayed and prayed and prayed but nothing, nothing at all, has happened. He's still here. He's still suffering. He's still friendless and hopeless, lost in a world that doesn't give a damn about him, strung up and tortured by a psychopath. Day in. Day out.

"You know," Adiel said, relaxed, "Many people are angry with you for cutting off heaven- but I'm starting to think it's actually a good thing. I mean, things were getting a little bit stuffy up there, if you know what I mean. Same people in charge for centuries when what- there policies never change? This little adventure gives us a chance to dust and clean out the cobwebs, so to speak. Bout time we had a new person in charge, ya?"

Cas hung his head, too weak to support it anymore. He was barely lucid, and unaware of anything he was hearing or seeing. Through his cracked lips he wheezed out a broken mantra, "Not Cas… Not Cas… Not Cas…"

"Well sure you are! You're not Jimmy- so I'm afraid there's no one else for you to be," the man said conversationally, a faux sympathetic smile on his face.

* * *

The barbed wire dug across his skin, reels of it wrapped tightly around his body and biting deeply into his skin, twisting around the muscle and bunching up into knots. Trussed up against the cold metal, the burning metal sent heated tendrils up his back and coiled around each of nerves.

Halfway through one of his sessions, Adiel pulled the knife away from making sickening patterns on his skin to place it lightly on the table and wiping his hands on one of the rags. Cas let out a shaky laugh, and spit out a trail of blood. He hadn't been left alone in a long time, and maybe- just maybe, this would give him enough time to escape.

Whistling to himself, Adiel pulled out syringe and filled it with a clear liquid before walking it over to Cas. Fear flared up, racing through his system, and with his limited movement he tried to shift away from the man advancing towards him. It did nothing, however, and all the man had to do was grab him roughly by the neck and pierce the think papery skin and push down, before everything went dark.

When he became lucid again, his tongue felt thick and dusty in his mouth, and each of his limbs were stiff. For a brief moment, the horrible thought that his spine was broken made his blood run cold and unshed tears burn behind his ears. He couldn't move one limb, and it terrified him.

Frozen in place, Cas looked straight ahead of him and prayed that he would be spared. Time went on, and everything stayed exactly how it was. The longer he couldn't feel anything below his neck, the more hysterical he got, and thick tears rolled silently down his face, too exhausted to make a sound.

Eventually, he heard noise once more in the room outside his prison, and he closed him eyes in surrender, hoping that at least he wouldn't be able to feel anything he did anymore- that it was over.

He laughed bitterly in his head at that, that he had won- in a weird way. that the man would no longer to get his rocks off by hearing him scream. The game was over.

When the noise continued, growing louder and louder, Cas wondered what was happening, and who Adiel could possibly be bringing back. More and more people shuffled into the other room opposite him, and his sluggish brain eventually supplied him with the likely hood of it being the mafia.

It surprised him how little that mattered.

"All Rise"

Cas' train of thought flat lined, and he listened in shock to what he was hearing.

"I invite you to out Sunday morning, church service. Last Sunday, we taught a powerful message, entitled, "Steps to pleasing God." It's high time now, that we praise God with every muscle that's in our body!"

Hope, something that he hadn't been able to feel in a very long time, bubbled up inside of his chest.

_They found me_

Cas opened up his mouth to scream cry and beg for help, but nothing came out. Shocked, Cas lifted the weight of his heavy tongue to try and make a sound.

Nothing came out.

He couldn't move. And he couldn't talk.

The circumstances of his situation bore down on him, and the knowledge that help was right outside the thin broken door was enough to make his vision blur over once more. As wet trails of tears flowed down his gaunt and bloody face, Cas was forced to listen on.

"…for the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. We are saved by the grace of God alone. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, "For by grace you have been saved, through faith. And that is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast."

"In his book Spirit, Word, and Story Calvin Miller writes, "Grace we define as 'unmerited favor,' or as our time-worn acrostic declares: 'God's Riches at Christ's Expense.'" We are alive today because of God's grace. We are here today because of God's grace. We are saved from sin and eternal damnation in hell because of God's grace. But how did God give this grace to us?

"Ephesians 2:14 says that it is through "our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good."

John Bunyan writes, "O Son of God, grace was in all thy tears; grace came bubbling out of thy side with thy blood; grace came forth with every word of thy sweet mouth; grace came out where the whip smote thee, where the thorns pricked thee, where the nails and spear pierced thee. O blessed Son of God, here is grace indeed! Unsearchable riches of grace! Unthought-of of riches of grace! Grace to make the angels wonder, grace to make the sinners happy."

It went on and on, Cas periodically opening his mouth and screaming an unheard cry. The words of the sermon pounded loudly in his ears, and the shock of his situation rocked him to the core.

The worst moment was when he looked through the slats in the top of the door to stare directly at a cross. The rise and fall of the prayer was almost too much, and if he could have he would have burst out laughing.

Yet if he could, he wouldn't be here.

* * *

It was the worst form of torture, he decided, simply because he was so close. Even the sharp tear of the knife was preferable to this.

_Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name_

_Thy Kingdom come, Thy_ will _be done on earth as it is in Heaven_

_Give us this day our daily bread_

_And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us_

_And lead us not into temptation_

_But deliver us from evil_

_Amen_

_Amen     Amen                Amen                                    Amen                                 Amen_

_Amen             Amen                                            Amen                                                         Amen_

_Amen                                            Amen                                                                              Amen                             Amen_

_Amen                                                        Amen                                            Amen_

_Amen                                         Amen                                                                                           Amen_

_Amen                                         Amen                  Amen                                                                   Amen                                                                                                                                         Amen_

_Amen_

_Amen                                                                                                              Amen_

                  

Hours later, after even the echo of the voices in the room were gone; Cas felt movement return slowly to his limbs. The second he could move his neck, he craned it, trying his best to see through the slat- to see the cross on the wall again. He saw nothing.

Days went on. Forever. He would cut and cut and cut… Always offering to stop if Cas would just cooperate. No matter how much he begged and pleaded that he didn't know- that he was innocent. It didn't matter.

3 times, he heard the sermon; 3 times he heard the quite murmur of voices as they sang hymns and made confession. He began living for those moments. Not because he entertained the notion that it spelled freedom, for he wasn't that stupid. But because it meant a blissful couple hours of complete and utter nothing. If he didn't look down, he could almost pretend the body below him was whole and untouched.

It didn't last for very long, however. Seconds after the people shuffled into the room he was back to being tortured and burned. Screaming through his ripped throat loudly, spraying blood everywhere.

One of the days after the second sermon, Adriel twisted the knife a little too hard, and Cas' whole frame shuddered and turned to the side. The movement caused the decaying skin of his hands to finally give, and with a sickening noise the skin and muscle split, sending his weight straight down. As his knees caved, his other hand ripped open as well, sending Cas sprawling to the floor. White hot pain roared through his body, rippling and flaring and causing him to scream until there was no sound left to make, and even then bloody curls of agony broke out of his throat.

Adriel just looked at his sadly before hefting him back up to the plank and deftly pounding two new nails into his wrists, saying something about how these would probably hold better.

Cas wasn't conscious for a long time after that.

After the third sermon, Cas made the mistake of coughing up onto Adiel's pristine suit. The man had just paused, frozen, in his work, to look down at the string of red on his otherwise white shirt. In slow, easy movements, he set down his pen knife and gingerly lifted the "angel blade" as he called it, and rotated it slightly in the light.

"You're not going to tell me anything I need to hear, are you?" he said, softly.

"I don't- I don't know anything!" Cas scraped, barely getting the words out.

Sighing, the man flipped the blade in his hand, as if to test the weight. "That's what I thought you would say." Adriel murmured. The room was deathly silent, the only sound Cas heard coming from his labored breath.

"You know. I'm kind of getting sick of hearing your screaming. It's just so….  _annoying_ , don't you think?"

Cas stopped breathing

"Ya. I think so too. Don't worry, I can do something about that." He said, with a tight smile.

His eyes were cold.

Adriel reached forward and locked his hand on Cas' jaw, using strength that no human should be able to posses. With one hand, tilted Cas' face back, ignoring the screams of protest issuing from Cas' throat, to expose the pale expanse of his throat.

"Wait no- please!"

"Oh don't worry." He soothes, running his hand along the length of his neck in a placating manner, "I know what I'm doing." He said, before taking the blade in hand- and  _slicing_ -

Cas didn't scream for very long.

* * *

Adriel resumed the torture, not long after. He said, "just because you're not willing to cooperate, doesn't mean you get off easy," in a way to explain things as he picked up the knife once more.

Cas' whole body was decorated by scratch marks and designs. They ranged in depth and length, looking for all the world random illogical, yet Adriel kept laughing to himself after completing a certain mark under saying something in another language under his breath.

His arms were shredded, barely a piece left. When Adriel ran out of large expanses of skin to mark, he started creating smaller designs closer and closer together. Finally, the final line of his tattoo that had remained unbroken was cut by the knife, splitting the last of the mark.

A white light burst forth from Cas, pulsing out hot and thick. Adriel was sent flying across the room and slammed into the wall, crumpling to the ground in a boneless heap.

He remembered

..

Cas looked down at himself, strapped to the wall in a mockery of the savior. Grimacing, he steadied his limbs and tried to catch his breath, trying to think of a way out before others came. He wasn't going to subject himself to being a captive again.

~One month earlier~

Dean stared in shock at the door to the tent, frozen by the suddenness of everything that had just happened.

It wasn't supposed to go this way.

Dean forced himself to move, not even sparing Rachel a glance before running out the tent after him.

For hours, Dean looked. Circling the whole carnival and asking anyone in sight if they had seen him run off.

No one had.

He looked in every shop window, and every alleyway. Nothing.

Hours later, long after night fell, Dean returned to the motel room, eyes wild. When he burst in the door, Sam sat up from where he was dozing against the chair. From his posture, Dean could tell Sam knew something was up.

In fumbled sentences, Dean forced out a summary of what happened at the carnival.

"I uh- brought Cas to the stupid town carnival to meet with this psychic chic…and she did this hoodoo voodoo that made him remember who he was Sammy, and he did. He fucking looked at me for the first time in years like he knew who I was. He was right fucking there. And then uh, he blinked and started saying shit about how he had to leave and all but flew out of the fucking tent. And now he's back to not knowing who the shit he is in the goddamn middle of nowhere and he could be dead or run over for all I know and _fuuuck_." Dean bit out, running his hand over his face quickly.

Sam straightened, clenching and relaxing his jaw periodically. Finally, after breathing deeply, Sam said, controlled, "Dean. You better tell me what happened right now. And don't you dare leave anything out."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, when the look on Sam's face stopped him cold. Swallowing thickly, Dean tried again.

"Ya, ok."

~One week ago~

"Are you sure this is the place?" Dean said, shoving the man harder against the wall. The blade he had against his throat bit deeper into his skin, and the angel hissed against the pressure.

"I'm sure! I'm sure it's right. Malachi, Malachi abducted him a couple weeks ago. This is the only place he would house him. I'm sure of it."

"You know what?" Dean grit out, holding the knife tighter in his fist. "I believe you."

Dean pulled his arm back and thrust the sharpened blade through the chest of the other man, satisfied when it punctured his heart. He didn't give himself long to revel, however. Instead getting up and turning around to face Sam.

"Did you hear the man?"

Sam nodded, eyes steeled. "I guess we're going to Sierra."

* * *

Cas didn't have much time before to angels burst into the room, blades raised. They quickly took stalk oh him hanging naked and bloody against the wall and their torturer dead against the wall. Not quite sure what to take of the situation.

_Malachi_

_D/S_

Sam and Dean rounded the corner of the street, pulling up in a wooded area in the middle of nowhere, facing a dilapidated church.

"Do people still even go here?"Dean breathed, surveying the sunken building.

"Apparently once a week they hold mass here for the locals."

Dean nodded, only half listening as he shoved weapons in his pockets, ready to go in and get the poor bastard who had been trapped for a month.

_I am so sorry Cas_

"Let's get moving," he said, gruffly, moving to swing open the door.

"Wait!" Sam called, reaching over and grabbing onto his jacket sleeve to keep him in place.

To ground him.

"Just… realize that what we see in there… might not be anything good."

Anger and pain rose sharply in his gut, and he found himself snapping and Sam. "You don't think I don't know that? Let's just get in there and do our fucking job."

Sam nodded, before grabbing his blade and stepping out of the car.

Together, they advanced on the building

_C_

"Castiel. What did you do?" He breathed out, rage seeping out around the calm. Malachi stepped over Adriel's body to stand face to face with Cas; he looked at him, hard, before smirking.

"Oh. You can't tell me now can you?"

Cas glared back at him, refusing to think of the implications of that certain fact.

"Oh that's fine. I've always enjoyed myself a monologue. Haven't I Theo?" Malachi said, looking over his shoulder for confirmation from the man behind him.

"Good. Well you see, Cas. You've caused quite a lot of trouble for everyone down here. Millions dead because of you. Your own brothers and sisters! The fall alone killed a whole host of angels. Simple killing doesn't even begin to describe it. Devastation. Wings shredded, unspeakable agony at your hands. So I would have thought you would have wanted to provide any information you had; considering. But," he said, pulling back, "I guess we're just wasting our time. You're useless now."

Malachi stared coldly at Cas, before stepping back. "I'll leave you in the hands of an artist." He said, before brushing past the other man.

"I don't care what's left."

The other man stared coldly at Cas before walking over to the door and swinging it shut. Cas slumped against the wall, whole body tired and screaming for an end.

"Don't worry, traitor. There won't be any mercy."

_D/S_

Outside, two angels stood guard over the building. Looking between themselves, the two brothers slipped silently to the side before each rounding on one of the guards. In swift movements, both stabbed the angels before catching them and helping them slide to the ground.

No sound was made

_C_

Cas looked up through bloody lashes at the man before him, before slowly turning his head to the side, exposing his neck to the weapon he held in his hand.

A silent,  _do it_.

The blade hovered over his throat, and Cas squeezed his eyes closed- ready for the end. After a few moments, he felt the man shift. "I need you to speak to Metatron."

Freezing, Cas cracked and eye open and turned to survey the man in front of his, a look of clear puzzlement upon his face.

_What did he just say?_

"Everyone knows you have influence he'll listen to you. Ask him to raise me to heaven."

Cas blinked owlishly before raising his head slightly to convey he was listening. "You can do this Castiel! I'll be a soldier to Metatron do anything he wants. I thought Malachi was the answer but he's crazy. No one will survive this war."

Cas looked at the man in front of him, surveying him soundly. He did everything to keep the small flutter of hope in his chest buried; needing to convey everything he needed to in his eyes. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, Cas nodded his head at the man, and smiled softly.

Grinning, he put down the syringe and shuffled his feet. "Awesome."

_D/S_

The church was empty except for a man standing against one of pews. Silently, Dean gestured to Sam and together they slowly went up to the man. In two seconds flat, Sam reached around the man and clamped his hand over his mouth before Dean took the blade and stabbed it deep into the other man's chest.

His surprised grunt of surprised was trapped by Sam's hand as he sagged in a pulse of white light, before falling stiff.

Breathing heavy, Sam and Dean quickly checked around the church, looking for anyone else in sight. When it was marked clear, Dean's heart started pounding in his chest

_He's not here_

_He has to be_

_He's gone_

Dean started swaying on his feet, unable to deal with another false lead. A strong grip landed on his arm, and Dean looked up into Sam's hardened eyes.

Sam looked at him before jabbing his finger over at the door hidden off in the corner, overlooking the podium at the front of the room.

"It's an Anchoritic room." Sam murmured, voice stiff. "It's just a cell where a person would choose to spend the rest of their life in- to pray and ask forgiveness for their sins."

"Shit" Dean huffed back, before together- they advanced on the room no bigger than a closet.

_You better be in their Cas_

_C_

Cas smiled back, doing everything he could to play up their agreement. Looking over his shoulder at the door surreptitiously, Cas nodded once again and looked pointedly at his wrists, signaling for the angel to release him from his confines.

"Oh, of course." He muttered, before quickly unwrapping the wire from around him, untying his feet, and yanking out the bolts that chained him to the wall.

Cas' knees barely supported him when he hit the floor, but he used every ounce of control he had to remain upright, choosing instead to lean casually against the wall. After he steeled himself enough to make towards the table, Cas rubbed his wrists calmly and surveyed the table.  
"I'll…give you a minute to make the call." The man said, reverently. Cas looked over at him and sent him another well-meaning smile, sending out vibes of ease as much as he possibly could.

The man nodded again and turned away slightly to look at the wall. In the two seconds that it offered, Cas hurriedly picked up a blade, ignored the burn in his wrists and the movement, and brought it down in an arc against his throat.

Grace pooled out of the gash, and in one smooth motion Cas swallowed it down.

The burning unfamiliarity of another's grace swirled into every cell he had, filling them with a new life. Slowly, the foreign power thrummed through his veins, healing the shallow wounds instantaneously.

When the glow dimmed, Cas opened his eyes to stare at the darkened ones of the man in front of him. After pausing a beat, he reached out and smote the man, not able to risk the threat. Even with the grace, the worst of his wounds were still open and raw; unhealing.

Cas decidedly did not think about what would never heal.

He sagged against the wall, still too weak to make it any farther. He slowly sank to the floor, clutching the blade firmly in his hands, and waited.

Far, far too soon, Cas heard rustling on the other side of the door.

_Too soon_

Cas clenched his jaw and rose to his feet shakily, trying to get in the best position to defend himself and stay alive.

The door burst open in a flurry, and the next thing he knew was he was staring at the face of someone he thought he would never see again.

"Dean?" he mouthed, before his strength finally gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tears of blood because so much happened in this chapter
> 
> OK: Some clarification. By now in this story- it has been over a year since the fateful "you can't stay". I touched down with the arc of the season because reasons, but as you can tell it is significantly different.
> 
> Also: In that time Gadreel came- fixed up Sam, and left. (He's not an issue in this story) All will be explained...eventually.
> 
> I'M ON SPRING BREAK NOW! WHOOOO!
> 
> Super excite because my aunt uncle and two gorgeous little toddlers and visiting .
> 
> ~Magnolia


	21. Full Circle

  
I walk a lonely road  
The only one that I have ever known  
Don't know where it goes  
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street  
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
Where the city sleeps  
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me  
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating  
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me  
'Til then I walk alone

I'm walking down the line  
That divides me somewhere in my mind  
On the border line  
Of the edge and where I walk alone

Read between the lines  
What's fucked up and everything's alright  
Check my vital signs  
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone

I walk this empty street  
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
Where the city sleeps  
And I'm the only one and I walk a...

* * *

Dean threw open the door and looked around wildly. Cas stood shakily a few paces in front of him, ghostly pale and littered with deep gashed and cuts all over his prone body. Slowly, his thin lips parted roughly and his lips closed around a single word

_Dean_

The unspoken word wrapped itself around Dean's head and popped the haze in his mind. As Cas crumpled to the ground, Dean jolted forward to capture him in his arms and lower him slowly to the floor.

_I'm too late_

He went on autopilot, not letting himself stop to think about how close he was- and how he could've prevented this.  _If I had just been faster…_

If he hadn't, he didn't know what he would have done.

He brought Cas to the ground, and in simple efficient movements he titled his head back and gently tipped open his jaw.

_One two_

Dean brought him hands up to Cas' flayed chest, and quickly pumped up and down, up and down, up and down.

_Repeat_

"Dean."

He kept going, his mind stuck on a continuous loop.

_Fix Cas Fix Cas Fix Cas…_

"Dean!"

Sam pulled at his shoulder, pushing him back on his haunches. Dean opened his mouth to snap at him and push him away before he stopped short, staring with wide eyes at the man before him.

All of Cas' wounds were closing up, sealing the deep gashes and knitting tendons back together. Slowly, a small flush of color returned to his skin, blood renewing in his dried out veins.

_Grace_

Cas' eyes flew open and he surged forward.

"Hey hey. Slow down. Your good Ca- Clarence. Just breath, we got you." Dean said, placing his hand on Cas' chest and halting his movements. After a second, Dean sat back and shrugged off his jacket, laying it gently over his lap.

Cas looked pained before glancing down at himself and back at Dean, eyes pleading before shaking his head roughly.

Dean stopped, allowing himself a moment to hope.

"…Cas?"

Cas smiled softly and nodded his head, not moving from his position on the floor.

"Well I'll be damned." Dean chuckled, grinning wildly, "Get over here you bastard." Dean said, before he reached over and pulled Cas into a hug, gripping tight at his shoulders.

Cas sat rigidly in his arms before slumping into the hold and bringing his own arms up to wrap around Dean. They stayed like that for a while, just absorbing the fact that they were both here, both alive, and both okay.

Cas looked up when Sam settled his hand on his shoulder, smiling.

The three stayed like that, for a period of time. Cas was fine, Dean was fine, Sam was fine, Malachi was dead…

Dean laughed, huffing through the grin that split his face. When Cas looked at him questionably, Dean joked, "Ganked that bastard and got Cas back in one go? Should I buy a lotto ticket?"

Cas' smile faltered a bit before quickly resettling, leading Dean to question if it had even happened. "You ok down there, buddy?"

The man in front of him frowned before mouthing words, no sound escaping his lips. Dean shot Sam a look, both confused as to why Cas wasn't talking. "Hey man, "Dean started, trying to keep the worry from ebbing into his voice, "Take it easy. How bout we head back to the hotel and get you patched up, ya?"

He shook his head, and started motioning with his hands. After a minute, Sam's eyes widened and he quickly interjected. "Cas slow down, we don't know sign language."

' _Sigh Language?'_ , Dean thought.

Shaking slightly, Cas stood up and walked over to the door before pushing it open and entering the chapel. A few seconds later, he returned, holding one of the abject bibles. After looking at it for a minute, he opened it, tore out one of the pages, and dropped the book.

Neither Sam nor Dean knew what he was doing, and both stayed where they were in the room as Cas looked around, and eventually crouched down and dipped his index finger into the pool of blood on the floor against the wall.

Dean cringed and was about to say something when Cas took the finger to the page and started moving it around.  _'He's writing.'_  Dean's sluggish brain supplied.

Dean tracked the movements of his finger over the paper and watched apprehensively as Cas walked back over to them and held out the paper. He took it warily and flipped it over to read the printed words on the front.

" _ANGEL BLADE."_

Dean looked up, slightly confused as to what that was supposed to mean. When he met Cas' eyes, he drew his finger across his throat in explanation.

And it clicked.

Dean heard a sharp inhalation from over his shoulder distantly to mark Sam's understanding as well. Instead, he stared down at the blood stained paper, trying to not believe what was right before his eyes.

"SHIT!"

* * *

Cas slid into the backseat and sat in the middle resolutely, head bowed. Dean closed the door behind him and turned to head into the front seat when Sam grabs his arm and opens his mouth.

"Not right now, Sam." Dean said, finitely.

"Dean- we need to talk about this. I-"

"I said not right now!" he barked, turning around to stare directly at him.

Sam silenced him with a look.

"Dean, this is not something that I'm going to let you screw up with again. You didn't tell me what happened last time and that's what got us into this in the first place. So right now, we are going to stop what we're doing and talk."

He deflated, not bothering to keep trying. "Sam- what do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?"

Sam looked at him softly before speaking, "Just don't… close up again. We're all in this together, alright? We're going to figure this out, and we're going to go from there. You can't just lock down and lock yourself away. Cas needs you right now, and communication is our only friend. Especially with Cas'… limited ability. Ok?"

Dean nodded, knowing it was the truth. “We’ll make it work.”

 

-

 

They arrived at the motel, all waiting in the lobby as Sam bought the rooms; Cas dressed in a pair of Dean’s cast offs found in the back of the trunk. The two stood in silence, Dean shifting back and forth on his face and Cas staring at the ground, unmoving.

They stayed that way until Sam returned, holding the keys to a suite.

“Ok guys, 2nd floor corner room is ours.” Sam said, holding out the keys to Dean.

“Sweet! We can rest up, trade beauty secrets, and get back to gankin’ the rest of those bastards.” Dean said, relieved for an out.

“It’s so good to have you back, man.”

Cas broke.

He tried so hard to not show it; not earlier and not now. He was better than that… stronger. He didn’t need to hear Dean tell him that, after all they’d been through; he was only around because he was useful. He couldn’t hear it. It stung; Dean confirming that no matter what he did, or how far they’d come; he’d only ever be used as a hammer; a tool.

The one thing he had fought so hard to free himself from.

It hurt even more with the confirmation that Dean and Sam hadn’t been at that godforsaken church for him; to save him. It was luck- pure coincidence that he was being held captive by the one person they were hunting. They hadn’t gone there for him; he was just the lucky second. The spoil of battle.

Cas laughed to himself, _‘And to think I’d thought I’d finally meant something’_

And so- he exploded.

 

-

 

Dean smiled at Cas, his Cas. He still couldn’t believe it, that he was back. After so long of nothing, and then a Cas that wasn’t himself, having him together and in front of him was surreal. Unbelievable. Standing next to Cas really drove home just how much he missed him; and not just his self, but all the little things that made him _Cas_.

And he was happy.

 

Dean faltered when Cas froze, not sure what he had said wrong.

 

Cas started signing furiously, hands flowing through different shapes and motions rapidly, hardly pausing between each symbol and the next. He started crying, going red in the face, only serving to make him go faster and sharper, palms clenching into fists and fingers jabbing in the air and sharpening into claws.

Dean didn’t move, staring in shock at Cas’ not sure what to say or do. Sam was the same.

 

And then Cas left- walking right passed them and out of the lobby. Not turning back.

 

-

 

Cas walked until he reached the bus station, not caring if they were following him. He was done. With everything.

He slept at the station until a bus pulled up the next morning, and rode it until it pulled up at his street.

When he went in, Cas found everything to be the same. His dishes were layed out on the dry side of the sink, waiting to be put away. His books were lying in an unstable stack on the coffee table, his jacket hanging on the rack. Nothing had changed.

Yet on the table, a small note was folded against the wood.

            _Dear Cas,_

_Thanks for telling me about your surprise vacation! I had to hear about it from your friend! You better tell me all about it when you get back. I mean, Thailand!! That’s so magical! Anyway- just letting you know that I’ll look after Ghost until you get back. Or… Tanya will. Point is, she will get fed and walked and…whatever else she needs. Can’t wait to see you soon, hun!_

_~Nora_

Cas smiled sadly, grateful to his friend. She gave him everything. New life, hope-

And now a future.

 

Cas gathered together a pile of his clothes- his socks his wallet. He picked his most durable pair of shoes and packed his favorite book.

 

He walked around the apartment- closing doors and pushing in chairs. He made the bed and put away the dishes.

 

He walked down the stairs, running his hand over the lacquered wood.

 

He went to the bank and withdrew everything he had saved- pocketing it all in cash.

 

And then he went to the train station.

 

Bought a ticket.

 

And left

.

.

.

 

.

.

.

 

.

.

.

Refusing to look back

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok: A few notes
> 
> 1) All periods are the ... beats, if you will. FF is stupid and wouldn't let me leave spaces, so I had to make do (sorry!)
> 
> 2) I decided to have Cas vacation in Thailand because I was watching Felica Day's vid of her trip there this morning so...that's where Cas went as well
> 
> So now! This story has brought me so much joy and I have enjoyed writing it so much. This is by no means the end- and I already have the next story in this 'series' planned out- so don't worry. Everything WILL be explained
> 
> I appreciate every single one of you guys who have read up until here oh so much; and I can only hope that you will continue with the story in it's next journey (I can promise you it's not going to be repetitive or boring, I already planned it out and got it like... pre-approved if you will)
> 
> I'm going to post a new 'chapter', on this story when I do so all of you guys who don't follow me as a user will know when I do (though all of you guys should do that do because... I don't have a good enough reason)
> 
> With that; I think I'll start writing it in either 2 weeks, or a bit longer.
> 
> For some shameless promotion: In the meantime I am continuing to write my other story, "What is Sane" that I think you guys would like a lot; so... check it out! If you want..
> 
> Also; I hope you guys don't hate me too much for the cliffhanger not happy ending of this one- it just all works out in the long run- so I made the executive decision on that.
> 
> So until then- see you!
> 
> Please let me know what you think/thought!
> 
> ~Magnolia


	22. SUPER IMPORTANT UPDATE

SO MY FRIENDS- IT IS OFFICIAL

THE TIME HAS FINALLY COME

THE SEQUEL TO THIS STORY IS FINALLY UP.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR PATIENTLY WAITING

IT'S CALLED " _ **HOMEWARD BOUND**_ " AND IT UP ON MY PAGE.

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME AND HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS NEXT INSTALLMENT.

And definitely re-read this installment before starting the next one or just briefly overview it so you can get an idea of what the shit went down before continuing :)

~Magnolia

([LINK TO THE SUPER AMAZING SEQUEL](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2260020))


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